Tales of a Maiden Warrior
by ForsakenValkyrie7
Summary: I was born into a secret organization that deals with Strigoi, Moroi, and protects the unpromised Dhampirs. People like me carry out the jobs, do the dirty work and make sh*t explode. Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Hello, my name is Rosemarie Hathaway, and my next mission is to assassinate the Moroi Queen, formally known as Vasilisa Dragomir.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello fellow readers! Hope ya'll are doing well. I've decided to do another fanfic for VA! I hope you like it :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything apart from the plot, enjoy ~**

* * *

 _ **Present Day**_

Looking at the mirror, I raised my hand and touched a faint line on my forehead. I unconsciously traced it, but haltered when I realized there were three of them.

I scowled at my reflection.

"I know you're there," I grumbled. "I've been in endless amount of wars and managed to sidestep any person who'd want to mark me, but _this_ …this will be my undoing."

Wrinkles.

Which meant one thing: I was getting _old_.

Just the thought had me yearning to curl up in bed and avoid people, until I heard laughter in the street.

My brow furrowed as I walked to the front window and opened the curtain. Children were dancing in the street, while a group of young boys played tag. I smiled.

Even a dog was happily yapping at the site.

The scene made me bite in lip in hesitation. Growing old was inevitable, but come on! Why did it have to start now?

I sighed, knowing I was being ridiculous but unable to shake off this fear of turning into one of those grumpy old hags that knit, eat, sleep, yell at people and having to repeat that every single day for the rest of my life. I shuddered. I needed to get some fresh air.

On that note, I grabbed a scarf and wrapped it around my neck and fashioned it so it looked _fashionable_ , and not in an I'm-old-and-therefore-must-wear-scarfs-because-that's-what-old-women- _do_.

I grabbed my handbag and keys and proceeded out before I could convince myself not to. On the way out, I thought to myself, _why don't I try getting a face-lift?_

Cackling, I locked the door behind me, threw my keys into my bag and headed for the main street.

Along the way, I passed many town folk all of whom I knew well, and even received compliments! Well, you see? Old people don't receive compliments.

I turned the corner at the end of my street and proceeded upward towards the main street, which, as always, was crowded. For some reason, it calmed me. The more people there were, the more positive thoughts I had, with one standing out the most: we are free. Free to do as we pleased and lived in harmony. Even tourists from all around the world came here! Most of the tourists were humans and oblivious to the races that were here and the history that was made here, however they seemed to leave their mark on this place however way they could – usually by either donating money to the church or writing awed reviews on our main site. Yes, we had a site on the Internet – who would've known.

After passing several stalls, I made my way towards the café I make a habit of going to every morning. La Sirene, home to the finest fluffy omelets I'd ever tasted. I never had to order because they knew my choice off by heart. Scary…

After I entered the café, I went straight to the counter where Robin Badica sat behind, tallying up receipts.

"Good morning, Robin," I said, removing my scarf. Robin made sure to maintain the fireplace in the café so her guests were always happy and warm.

She looked up, her face softened. "Morning, you. Sleep well?" She asked. As if she didn't know. She was my neighbour and a close friend. The damn woman knew _everything_.

I gave her a knowing look. "I'm afraid so, just wish I didn't wake up to this," I said, pointing to my forehead.

She looked to where I'd pointed and laughed. "You've had them for a while and the crinkles in the corners of your eyes for even longer," she said, winking.

Well, that was rude. I raised a challenging eyebrow at her. "You'll get them too, you know?"

"Yes, but when I do, I'll wear them with pride because I can say I've lived long enough to receive them," she pointed out.

Fair point. Between us, we knew only a handful of those older than us to have died much earlier than us from either disease or the wars.

Which, as always, soured the mood.

She grimaced, looking up at me. "Sorry. Trust me to ruin the morning."

I shook my head, placing my hand over hers. "We've lost some of those who we grew up with. We can never forget that. But that's just part of life."

She nodded softly. "Still, what I wouldn't do to have them around."

Agreed. Even my best friend never knew of my survival before she past on. What if she had? Would she have been more relieved when passing on?

Wow, this was really souring the mood.

"Alright, shut it and get us some coffee. Take a break. We need to stop being so _old_ ," I said, shuddering at the last word.

She laughed, and then turned to flip on the kettle.

"One shot?" she asked.

"Make it a double. I'll find us some seats."

I turned and went towards where my legs always seemed to take me: to the far end of the café, right against the wall where an enlarged framed photograph was hanging on the wall above. After sitting down, I nodded my respect to the photograph, as always. Probably looked insane, but you gotta go with the flow sometimes.

I had just made myself at home and subconsciously started staring up at the photo _again_ , when a couple sat down at the table in front of mine.

Tourists. Judging from their attire and beanies, oh and the fact that they both had expensive looking cameras hanging from their necks - yeah, you would call them tourists. I glanced at them again. Yep, dhampirs as well.

They seemed so absorbed with this place and the environment, while gushing on and on and on and on about the scenery. I completely blocked them out until the woman's sudden outburst.

"Look at that heroine! Do you think I could sport armour as well as her?" the woman enquired to her lover, grinning.

The man took a swig of his beer before giving her a once over glance, and then shrugged.

"Depends on how heavy it is."

The woman swatted his shoulder with a pamphlet while he laughed.

I looked at them, and blinked in astonishment. Were they talking about the photograph? I glanced at it. Yep, the woman in the photo was sporting armour.

"I wonder who she was – the inscription isn't well preserved. Must be an old painting."

"I'd say it dates back well into time, considering her armour-"

"Her name was Rosemarie Hathaway," I interrupted the man.

Both of them whirled around to look at me. I realized then that they knew I was eavesdropping; however both didn't seem bothered by it. Oops?

"You know who she is?" the woman asked, her eyes lit up with excitement.

I nodded. "Aye," I spoke, grabbing a toothpick and placed it in the corner of my mouth. Bad habit. "She was a maiden warrior, and a damned good one at that. "

Now I had their full attention. The man completely turned in his seat. "She has a story?"

"Not just a story, my boy, but a legend. Rosemarie was one of the most talented assassins in the industry."

"Will you share with us her story?" the woman asked, hopeful.

Tell these strangers of Rose's story? Would I even be able to tell it correctly? It was such a long time ago…

"Please. We are humble tourists from America," the woman said. "It has always been our dream to travel to France."

"Also to gain knowledge of its history. The books are always readily available, but to be able to actually see places, like all the medieval castles…it was be something inspirational," the man added.

I chewed on the end of the toothpick. Would Rose want this? For the innkeeper to host such a painting was one thing – but to tell a pair of dhampir travelers of her story?

I smiled a little. Just thinking of her made up my mind. I knew she'd have swatted me over the head and kicked me in the gut if I ever surpassed the opportunity of telling her tale.

I ushered the couple over to my table. They moved forward, sitting perfectly side by side opposite to me.

Robin brought over coffee, and gave me a knowing smile before sitting next to me.

"Rose?" she enquired, already knowing what was happening. Damn her hearing.

I nodded and while I emptied a sugar sachet into my coffee, I lowered my voice.

"To hear this story, you must embrace the events that occurred with an open mind. Rose was not always a pure and gentle soul. Nay, she was damaged, having been brought up in a cruel organization, formally known as the Resistance, which was not bent on providing second chances. "

Already I could tell that they hadn't expected this, and were both insanely intrigued.

I smiled, glancing up at them.

"Hear this tale, the legend of Rosemarie, the most feared maiden among the immortal world, said to be a shadow kissed mortal whose sword breathed fire and whose trail left towns in devastation. It begins, as many legends do, with but a simple mistake – one that changed Rose's life forever…

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 **A/N:** **Oooh I wonder who this mysterious person is *waggles eyebrows***

 **I'll let you in on a secret? I don't know either! HAHA. Well, I lied. I have an idea on who but eh, we'll see how it goes!**

 **Anyways, just letting you readers know that every character in this story is actually from the VA series - so no made up ones.**

 **Anyways x 2, please review and tell me what you think please, because reviews are what keeps me interested in writing the story :) Hope ya'll enjoyed it ^.^**

 **ForsakenValkyrie7**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Another chapter up folks! Enjoy :)**

 **Disclaimer: *Robot voice*I do not own anythiiiiing**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 _ **Dunrobin castle, Scotland 1879**_

Rain drizzled down absently as my group waited in the tree line, out of sight. Ahead of us was Dunrobin castle, looking as glorious and well-fortified as the stories say. No doubt the dhampir had gone to extreme lengths to conqueror such a divine looking compound. Although I wasn't fooled.

This area was rigged; the stench of the undead reeked. The entire town was crawling with them. It was quite surprising that not one had made an appearance so far. How boring.

To the right of me, Serena, the head of the group, steered her horse further down along the tree line, ensuring her stallion stayed within the safety of the trees. Two other members followed her closely behind. I stayed put, my eyes never leaving the entrance to the castle.

We were trained since young to utilize our senses to their full capacity and were often sent on mission quite like these…but something wasn't right.

Suddenly, the drawbridge opened and Arthur Schoenberg emerged from the castle. A brief spark of relief rushed through me as I swiftly steered Banner, my stallion, through the trees to Serena. By the time I reached from her, Arthur and his guards made their way towards where she was.

When I approached, Arthur turned towards me, his hand outstretched in my direction. I nudged my stallion closer to him, then clasped his hand in mine and kissed it. When I leaned back, he tightened his hand around mine before letting go.

"It is a relief to see that you're unharmed, commander," I said, pushing my scarf that concealed half my face down.

He smiled, his eyes filled with fondness. He patted my shoulder gently.

"As I am. It was a risk to come here, but a necessary one," he replied.

Two members of my group fell back slightly from Arthur to barricade him in a protective circle, while I was on his right and Serena on his left, with Arthur's guards leading.

"Do you think we'll win this war, commander?" I asked, then silently cursed myself. _Watch your tongue, Rose._

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he pondered. Not long after he shrugged, although I could see the topic had given him many sleepless nights.

"Young Rosemarie, when you're as old as me or if you live long enough to be granted the position of a commander, perhaps then you'll find the answer," was all he said.

Which boggled my mind further. Was that a yes or no?

"Of course, my lord," I said, and we rode in the silence for the next two miles. We kept to the main road, close to the trees in case of an ambush. I pulled my scarf up to conceal my face and because the rain continued to drench us. I was thankful for my armour at least and leather pants.

I looked over to Arthur and opened my mouth to ask a question when I realized for the first time that he wasn't wearing his breastplate. How strange of him, considering he was one of our commanders and was to be protected at all times.

A startling loud boom sounded from the left towards the trees, causing Banner to lurch forward unexpectedly. The other horses gave startled protests while Banner continued to move forward.

"Banner," I hissed, pulling on his reins.

I looked back and saw Serena flinch from the sound causing her to move closer to Arthur. Serena moved her body sideward slightly – and a steel-tipped spear, which could've been classed as a pole with how damned wide it was, flew through the sky, impaled Serena through her chest and buried itself in Arthur's heart.

My mouth opened in horror, unable to believe my own eyes as Banner reared on his hind legs and gave a startled scream, followed by a gruff snort. I briefly struggled to control him before roughly nudged him right. Banner swung around, yet it still didn't seem fast enough. I nudged him again, harder this time and he lurched forward towards Arthur, who was a few paces away.

I looked up when Serena turned her head towards me, tears streaming, and expression mirroring mine as shock coursed through both our bodies. "Rose," she croaked, blood spilling from her mouth like a waterfall. She gave me a painful grin, tried to laugh but coughed up more blood and then fell from her horse with Arthur in tow. I swung off Banner and went to Arthur's side. Blood had stained his leather attire. Why hadn't he worn his armour! At that thought, I looked up at Serena and saw her tunic was pierced. The swear/pole had gone straight through her amour, which meant –

"Strigoi!" one of fellow members screamed. I looked in his direction before seeing around ten Strigoi bolting towards us from the woods, weapons of all sorts raised.

I turned back to Arthur and felt for a pulse. There was nothing. Not a single hopeful beat. His lifeless eyes stared up into nothing.

I screeched, pounding his chest with an uncontrollable rage.

"Commander!" I cried, sobs raking my body.

I failed. I failed to bring him home; I failed the only commander that appreciated me, the only one that replaced the father figure in my life.

"Rose," Serena croaked.

I looked up, tears staining my vision as I watched in slow motion as a nearby Strigoi ran towards us. He was a young man, with a wobbly grip on his spear. Newly turned.

I gritted my teeth and rose to my feet before jumping over Arthur's body. I ran the rest of the way towards the Strigoi, hate fueling my body to move faster. I swung out my stake and gave a yell before lunging forward. He blocked my first attack to pierce his heart, but only just. The boy tried and failed to swing his spear at me in order to push me aside. I swung around on the spot, stake lightly in my hand and slashed the Strigoi across his pale, dead face. He screamed in agony as the silver burned his skin. In the process, he dropped the spear and staggered backwards. Seeing my chance, I bolted forward, stake in position and gutted the bastard through the heart again and again.

Once I was satisfied he was dead, I dashed towards the next one. A woman.

The hag didn't see or even hear me coming from behind as I lunged unto her back and pierced her heart from behind.

Another one down. I looked over to see one of my party had fallen among the dead Strigoi.

Between the two, they managed to cut down four of the undead.

I wrestled another stake from my belt and ran towards the enemy. Since young, I have found weapon throwing fascinating and when I came of age, I demanded Arthur to teach me how to impale a Strigoi by precisely throwing silver stakes.

I remember the conversation clearly, as if it was just yesterday.

"Knife throwing is quite complex, young Rosemarie. However, using a silver stake to impale a Strigoi is nearly impossible with their strength and agility. You must wait for the right time. Just because you see an opening to their heart, doesn't mean that when that stake leaves your hand it will hit true. You must wait for the moment and strike just before you can sense an opening. Always use your senses… "

Right now, looking toward the remaining four Strigoi, I felt the sudden urge to experiment the technique.

I stopped running altogether and watched silently as the Strigoi made their way towards my fellow friend. They stalked towards him, but after I got a good look at how they were positioned, I found that they were positioned like a square, one in each corner. And because I was behind them, their backs were to me.

An opening.

I breathed in, moving my arm back with my stake raised and just as the stake reached just above my shoulder, I breathed out and flung the stake towards the Strigoi on the left.

I bit my lip hard, wondering whether I put enough force into the throw – and at that moment the blade flew straight through his heart and continued into the heart of one in front of him. The one that was hit first collapsed to the ground, dead, while the other gave a yell before falling.

I breathed out a relieved gasp.

The other Strigoi were momentarily startled, glancing back in my direction. I locked eyes with the remaining dhampir and gave him a nod.

He started forward and dug his stake into the nearest Strigoi. The last Strigoi glanced between the two of us as we circled him.

Again, I hesitated. Because my fellow dhampir was standing too close and –

The Strigoi suddenly turned and kicked him in the chest, his foot impaling the young dhampir.

"No!" I screamed, dashing forward. From looking at his slumped body, I knew he was dead. The Strigoi was trying to wrestle his foot from the dhampir's body when I made it to him. I raised my stake and went to step forward when he rounded on me, his foot still stuck, and punched my lower stomach. I fell back, smashing my head on the ground and was momentarily winded. I coughed up a salty substance while trying to blink away the black dots randomly appearing through my vision. It ached where he drove his damned fist into me.

The Strigoi managed to break free, throwing the dhampir body as if he was a toothpick, and turned his attention to me.

He grinned down at me before shoving his muddy boot on my neck to block off my windpipe. I gasped but no air came through.

"You wretched unpromised mortals think you can own all the strongholds of Scotland," he said, this accent so thick, he had to be a native.

I grunted in pain as he applied more pressure.

"If only you knew of the business that was discussed at Dunrobin," he spat, cackling to himself. Then he looked down and frowned. "Perhaps I should tell you. After all, you will be dead soon." He laughed again before continuing. "Your precious commander, eh? He was a canny lad, no doubt. Not when it came to negotiating, but," he said, and crouched down closer, applying more pressure. My eyes widened.

Can't breathe-

"You're quite a bonnie lass, aren't you?" He said, tipping back my hood to reveal my eyes. He licked his lips. "I've got to say, I don't usually find you dhampirs attractive."

He turned his attention downward my body, to my chest, and then looked back at me with a glint in his eyes. "Mind if I look?"

What he didn't realize was that when I fall, I always drag my weapon along with me, unlike his fellow _friends_.

I looked up at him, and with all my might, I arched my back up towards him. He was clearly shocked and impressed at the same time.

He adjusted his boot to allow me more air and bent back. I gripped my stake tightly against my side, out of his sight. He moved to look at my armor. Just as his hand was above my chest, I whipped out my stake and sliced his leg off. He screamed in pain and in shock while I greedily gasped in breaths of fresh air after the detached part of his leg fell away.

After I felt well enough to sit up, I rose and watched as he fell over, his hands on his leg. Now it was my turn to laugh.

"You must have seen that coming," I said, flashing a smile, still breathless.

He looked at me, still in shock, and grunted in pain again.

I nodded. "I understand. You're in pain. Let me help?" I asked gently, reaching over with my stake and when he raised him arm as if begging for mercy, I sliced his left wrist clean from his arm. Another brutal yell.

I sighed, rising to my feet. "You shouldn't have moved. Now you have one hand and one leg. Beg for forgiveness."

He was in so much pain, that he looked insane. He was cradling his injured arm with his remaining one, while staring at his leg. He continued to breathe in harshly, while occasionally whimpering. Was he moving back and forth?

I kicked him on the side of his head. He yelled out.

"Beg for mercy, then," I spat, circling him. The pain in my stomach was a bittersweet sting in the background now. My hatred toward this creature intensified with every second.

"You killed my commander. Someone who I loved, just like a _father_ ," I said, screaming the last word. I kicked the other side of his head. He bit back a scream.

"You killed Serena and the others and you think you deserve the peace of death?" I said, balancing my stake with my finger while looking down at him.

He was in so much pain that I felt a twinge of pity.

So I spat at him and gutted him through the heart while snarling, "You've wasted my time more than enough."

And with that, his grunts of pain ended.

I leaned back, unable to look at him or the others. Instead, I walked towards Arthur and Serena. However, after a few wobbly steps, I realized I wouldn't make it. I felt heavy, as if I couldn't get enough air. The pain in my side was excruciating. I looked down to find my armour and leggings were wet and sticky with blood. _My_ blood? The trail came from my stomach. I pealed back the leather to find a deep wound just above my hip. I looked back at the severed wrist of the Strigoi's to find he wore a spiked gauntlet.

"Great," I muttered before collapsing to the ground and welcomed the brimming unconsciousness.

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 **A/N: Hope you ladies and gents enjoyed this chapter and please review :)**

 **ForsakenValkyrie7**


	3. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything apart from the plot *incredibly sad face***

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

The moonlight shone through the forest, the shaded trees contrasting against the white mist that smothered the forest floor.

A fire had evidently broken out through this part of the forest like the plague, sizing ever tree in its path.

It was a gruesome site; however the odor was more profound. The stench of burnt bark and death collided my senses, proving difficult to withstand. Jagged rocks and broken off branches littered the uneven ground for many miles. I was fortunate enough to have lost feeling in my feet early in the trek.

With all my might I briefly had the privilege of seeing the moon before my neck buckled once again.

The full moon provided me with empty hope, as it usually did. With the guidance of the moonlight, I'd easily be able to backtrack and flee this place once and for all. But I knew better than that. Escaping the people I'd grown up with was impracticable and was not thought of. The consequence was too horrid for even the bravest to consider.

The fact that I was unable to walk limits the boundaries of being able to escape anyways.

My breathing hitched as another rock scraped across my ankle. Carrying me was merciful and the people I worked for were anything but, so I wasn't entirely surprised by the lack of etiquette my fellow people shared. Still, I favored being showed a little bit of kind gesture, considering the state I was in. I failed to return Arthur home safely and although I tried my best to cut down the bastards, it still wasn't enough. When the spear hits true, there's no hope for the victim.

The bastards 'escorting' me came and carried me along with our dead until I awoke some hours later and felt obliged to beat me until I could no longer walk as my punishment for failing. It's been like this since I learnt the skills in wielding a silver stake: you fail; you pay.

I was confronted with the unexpected surprise of not being dragged on the rough earth, but now on concrete. A path had formed, meaning only one thing: we were close.

I suppose I should have known we were nearing the destination because of the commotion coming from up ahead. I couldn't help but glance up, before again my neck gave in under the pressure again.

We were home. Glorious Eilean Donan stood before us, looking as majestic and haunted as it always has. When the sun set over the mountains, the castle would be shaded, and therefore would look black. To me, it always looked and _felt_ black, like an endless pit of nothingness.

The Residence, a secret society run by unpromised dhampirs, conquered Eilean Donan some fifty years ago from the Strigoi. The siege lasted three days before our past commander cut the king of the Strigoi's head clean from his shoulders and mounted it unto a spike.

That is when our alliance with the Strigoi themselves was formed. The former Strigoi king's second in command demanded our races to make truce, forever binding us in a peaceful treaty. If only it was that simple. See, the Strigoi were once either Moroi, dhampir or human, and therefore once becoming Strigoi, they tend to, in order words, _loose their former selves_. Which therefore causes a problem because they also forget their _manners_ , and makes them near impossible to communicate with. The Resistance was formed for the sole purpose of keeping my unpromised race safe and keep the rest of the world in order, forever fearing us. By doing this, they trained us to be quicker than the Strigoi, surpassing the intelligence of the Moroi and making us durable and ready for combat at any time. We are the caretakers of disruption if the treaty was breached. The only ones we do not and will not associate with are the promised dhampirs and their precious Moroi. They are despised more than the Strigoi themselves.

Having said that, the Strigoi are not exactly our allies. They're snakes, oblivious to emotions and kill without thought. Some along us fear them, even though we are trained to best them. They're the smart ones, the cautious unpromised dhampirs who have seen what the Strigoi are capable of. The 'peaceful treaty' only still stands because the Strigoi numbers are dropping, no matter how many are awakened. I have no doubt that we'd have been overrun by now if the Strigoi king had a sizeable force behind him.

The fact that they just murdered our commander means one thing – that the Strigoi king himself was losing control of his own men. Bands of young and recently turned Strigoi, like the group that killed Arthur, are the worst. They're new to the undead life of the Strigoi, thinking they're invincible and can go on killing sprees. Not on the Resistance's watch.

I wonder what will happen to me now that I failed to kill off the rogue Strigoi group before they could murder our commander.

Surely our other commander would no doubt have my head.

I looked up again as we made our way across the bridge. At night, Eilean Donan was lit up with various lights pouring outside the windows and in the courtyard where torches were lit for those who were on guard duty and training. We only slept through the day.

Apart from the light, the only sign of life was the smoke accumulating from the chimney.

The forest, mountains and the lochs surrounding the castle provided the seclusion and a way of escape. The Resistance picked Eilean Donan because she was easiest to defend and although she sat on an isle, the only way to access is through the bridge, there were several ways to flee. Plus the bridge had rows upon rows of gunpowder invested into the columns. One must only light up the closest column to set off the trap.

The better we hid and prepared ourselves, the better our chances of survival were. We were on the brink of war and our numbers were increasingly dropping because of it. My own friend was butchered and-

 _No_.

I squeezed my eyes shut, drowning out the memory. I will not let my weaknesses get the better of me.

Eager to distract myself, I slowly lifted my head to gaze upon the castle and a brief sliver of fear ran down my spine.

Send me in a cave full of Strigoi without a weapon and I'll manage. Having _his_ eyes rested upon is something I couldn't bear.

I'd rather die at the merciless hands of the bastards carrying me rather than him ushering the poisonous words of my sentence. No doubt it'd be gruesome.

I managed to turn my head to the side and view behind me and see if there was anyone coming up behind us. A Strigoi is what I was hoping for, but the only thing that stood from the ghastly scenery was the faint but noticeable trail of blood my feet were leaving.

When we got to the castle one of the dhampirs, dressed in a cloak with the hood pulled half across his face, walked ahead of us and proceeded to signal the guard to open the gate. It creaked open; my bravado faltered. A faint whimper escaped before I could clamp it down. A slap across my face killed whatever hope I managed to surge forward.

The dhampir who slapped me was the same one that signaled the gate open for the two dhampirs on either side of me.

I took one last look at the moon, surging up the courage to look away as I was led through the courtyard. Blood, long dry from their earlier attacks on my face, once again started seeping from my mouth. A bittersweet taste.

If I was to die tonight, then so be it. But I was grateful to at least see the moon one last time.

After walking up the stairs and making our walk towards the main entrance, we came to a stop.

One dhampir went in first, pulling me along with him while the other stepped in after me. Their grip on my arms would no doubt leave bruises later.

The door closed with a harsh thud. Numbness overcame my body as dread sunk in. The coldness no longer gripped my body, and no longer did I attempt escaping from my captors. There was no point. The hope I had previously held was lost after they had beaten me for trying to escape them. I was already on the brink of death when they found me. It seems I don't have much longer anyways.

My attention was brought elsewhere by the stench of death that engulfed the room. A stench I knew too well.

The cloaked dhampir lit a torch and the hallway was overcome by light. I flinched from the sudden brightness of the room and turned my head away from the light source - then I saw it.

The cause of such vile stench.

Huddled in a corner of the room was a male body. Judging from the chalky white skin, I knew he was Strigoi. My eyes widened. It was the one I had butchered.

Wasting no time, my captors dragged me onwards, followed by the cloaked dhampir.

I didn't have to see his face to know who he was.

Emil, of course.

A loyal dhampir to the organization. Loyal to the damn heart. I should have known it was him. He'd no doubt savor the privilege of beating up the illustrious Rosemarie.

His eyes lowered to mine. His mouth twisted into a distasteful snarl, then turned and led the rest of us to the main hall – hopefully they're still be serving breakfast.

Once we followed the passageway to the end and turned right to find an open door, my bravado was silenced completely.

My bottom lip started to tremble as Emil moved closer and lifted me into his arms with effortless grace.

I barked out a yell, feeling as if every one of my bones had just twisted.

"Wait near the door," he said gruffly to the other two. He swung around in the direction of the door and walked in sideward to fit in. The door closed behind us. I didn't dared look him in the eyes or even acknowledge he was there. Instead, I fought to keep my eyes open as Emil walked down a narrow stretch of stairs. The wood would protest every so often. I was surprised we didn't go through, since Emil is no lanky dhampir. His body was almost as wide as the stairs themselves. At the end of it, another door opened.

The commotion coming from the room was deafening, however as soon as we proceeded through the door, the noise ebbed.

Emil walked through the throng of dhampirs. Some I knew, and majority of those I wish I didn't. I spotted new faces here and there. The silence proved to bring zero comfort.

I knew all too why, and I hated the fact that I appeared so weak.

It didn't help the fact that when Emil reached the middle of the room, he promptly dropped me. My back hit the floor first, then my head.

I felt as if I'd been stabbed numerous of times everywhere. I clamped my lips shut, unable to escape the muffled scream slipping out.

More blood flooded my senses, now black spots threatened my vision.

"Rosemarie."

I squeezed my eyes shut as his voice rang out.

I heard footsteps coming towards me. It was him. His boots were the only sound breaking the silence. What was worse, him crouching down next to me.

On instinct, my eyes opened and I looked upon hell itself.

Stan Alto, the leader and most feared man in the Resistance. His very presence sets everyone on edge.

His darkened green eyes narrowed at the site of me. His eyes sought mine, and once he had my attention, he promptly grabbed my neck in his rough hand. I knew this was his little game, swiftly grabbing my neck and only squeezing if he was displeased with my answer.

Although he wasn't suffocating me as of yet, my hands still gripped his.

"I understand that you failed to do what I asked of you."

His voice wasn't booming off the wall. His tone was deadly, but quiet. For once.

I didn't answer, just swallowed loudly.

"Four people died, Rose. _Why_?" he barked the last word out.

I must have been visibly shaking by this point, because he slightly loosened his grip to let me talk.

Moment of truth. I was to tell him what happened without the bullshite, or else he'd sense it. There was no way to sugar coat what happened.

I swallowed before saying, "We were ambushed, sir."

God, I hated this place. Under the pressure, I could barely think straight at all.

" _What happened_?" he roared.

Others began to shrink back in fear. They couldn't comprehend of the pain and fear coursing through my veins.

"W-We were ambushed, sir, by Strigoi-", I heard a few gasp in bewilderment, "-we had reached Dunrobin and w-were escorting Commander Arthur from the castle when…when-," I stuttered, a tear leaking out, "- they attacked from the forest. We were caught unawares. A spear impaled both Serena and A-Commander Arthur. We were outnumbered but I managed to gut the remaining…," I finished, because I couldn't continue; the pain was too much. It hadn't been my fault, but I was still going to die because of it.

Stan glared at me for a long time.

So long that my mind drifted off to when I had first met him. I was four. He and a group from the organization rescued me and the other children from my village and took us in after the Strigoi attack. Back then he wasn't so bad. He took pride in teaching us combat, however back then he was only second in charge, his father being first. When his father passed on, Stan took charge and his demeanor changed entirely. By then I was fourteen.

They say Stan's father was worse than his own father, and Stan was regarded in the same way. Hence why everyone feared him so much.

Stan's eyes were suddenly ablaze with hatred. Hatred, no doubt, towards me. He abandoned my neck and grasped a chunk of my hair, pulling my face closer to his.

"One mistake, Rose. _One_ mistake is all that can get you killed here. Do you think you deserve mercy?"

The answer almost left my lips, but I bit it down.

After enduring what I had when running through the woods when I was young and losing my parents, then growing up in what left like a death camp, I deserved mercy. I was a solider, ironically, of war. That's how I was trained and that's how I've grown up. Second chances weren't common in the organization; therefore we grew to be perfect warriors; never questioning the commander and never considering leaving.

Yet I did. Every moment of every day. If I said no, Stan would deal the final blow. Would it be so bad? I'd be free from of this cruel universe. I'd be able to float above, relaxing and let the wind caress my cheeks. Here, all that caressed me was blood.

I briefly closed my eyes, envisioning what it'd be like to finally escape Stan. I knew it'd be enjoyable, but one thing pulled me back.

Meredith.

"Yes," I said loud and clear, my voice rebounding over the walls, the only sound to break the silence.

My eyes opened and met his unwearyingly, which seemed to catch him off guard, considering the implications of my current state.

He bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating. My eyes never left his. He was the one to look away as he suddenly launched me upwards in a standing position. I hissed in pain as he beckoned another dhampir towards him, carrying an unknown object.

Stan spun me around, never letting go of me, and whispered in my ear, "Let her see it."

The dhampir walked up to me, and then held up a damaged photo of a Moroi.

My blood ran cold at the sight of her.

"Here we have a Moroi, determined to change the old ways and convert those Moroi gifted with mystical power to fight alongside their guardians."

My lips parted in surprise. The cowardly Moroi fighting alongside their guardians?

"This causes the Strigoi king distress, as one particular royal family is known to be exceptional fire users." It was the Strigoi king's own family. After turning Strigoi, he no longer had the ability to bend fire. The dhampir holding up the photos held up a new one. Again my eyes took in the woman in the picture.

"Tasha Ozera," Stan acknowledged with distaste.

The Ozeras were a disgraced family according to the Moroi; having had two family members turned Strigoi, the Strigoi king and his queen: Lucas and Moira Ozera. I was under the impression that Tasha Ozera was one of the instructors that taught novices fighting techniques.

The dhampir proceeded to show the first picture to me again after Stan gestured on.

"She's the Moroi queen and must be taken care of," he said gruffly, then leaned down closer to me. "You are to assassinate her if you hope to be redeemed of your faults. The king has sent his deepest apologies for Arthur's death and will be sending two of his men to escort you to the Moroi castle after you are healed. You will set forth to kill her and bring peace between us and the Strigoi."

Stan wasn't in anguish for Arthur's death because everyone favored him. The two had never gotten along.

But of course, the Strigoi can annihilate us at any moment; however it was Stan's focus to make peace with them to further our chances of survival, and to, in the future, gain enough knowledge of the king's frequently changing whereabouts to murder him and his remaining race. Considering Strigoi can't assassinate the queen directly, due to her being locked up in her castle and the protective wards, they contact us to do the dirty work. Frequently.

"You fail, you will pay the ultimate price," was the last thing Stan said to me that night before he handed me off to another dhampir to carry me back to the dormitory. All the while, I was thinking I was damned lucky to be given another chance at life.

The queen had no idea what was coming for her.

* * *

Later that night, back in the room I shared with Mere, the moon shone brightly through our miniature window, as if trying to bask me in its glow.

Meredith retrieved her crooked brush and sat down gently on the edge of my bed. She grabbed a lock of my dark hair and gently started brushing.

"It's good to see that they've given you another chance," she whispered, cautious of the proximity with the others in the rooms next door.

I knew the tone she used very well. She may as well have said _I'm surprised you're still alive._

I shrugged, and then had to bite my lip from screaming out. I hissed in pain, lurching forward and away from Meredith's brush.

"Sorry," I bit out as quietly as I could. I leaned back with exaggerated slowness and Meredith took up soothing my hair. I was covered in bandages, and although they stopped the bleeding, the never ending pain was still evident whenever I moved.

"You can't blame yourself for their deaths," she firmly stated. "You're inability to control their movement is the reason why you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. There was no way you could have stopped that spear, even if you were one of the undead."

"I could have stopped it," I mumbled against my pillow, still staring up at the window.

She snorted quietly. "You're fast, Rose, but not that fast."

Just on the right side corner of the window was a single star burning bright. I felt drawn to it, as if it held all the answers I needed to know. Could I have saved him? Could I have gained control of Banner and leaped over Serena's horse so that the spear would have impaled me instead?

An appalling realization overcame me and the star was suddenly forgotten. My eyes widened in the dark.

"What if Stan orchestrated Arthur's death?" I said, my voice barely audible.

Judging from Mere's shift in position, I could have sworn that she'd swat me across the head if I were in better shape.

"Do you want to be killed?" she hissed, climbing over the bed so she was facing me and took my face in her hands. Her eyes drilled mine and pinned me there. "You're the only one who knows what it was like – running in the woods, forgetting our parents were still back in the village and were probably dead or worse, and yet we were so petrified that we couldn't look back," she whispered, and a tear fell down her cheek. She angrily wiped it off. "Rose, if I lost you then they'd be no reason to go on. I hate this life and I know you do too. You're my sister. But if you die because others have heard you say what you just said, I will bring you back and kill you myself."

My eyes were wet with tears by the time she finished. She was always the emotional one out of us two, but could always make me tear up if she was too.

"I'm sorry. I just…" I trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"I know," she said gently, wiping one of my tears. "We will soon be free."

The yearning for it only intensified at her words. I knew there was no point further sobbing about it, so I kept it in, hidden from her. She went and grabbed her pillow from her bed and placed it next to mine, while I lowered myself down unto the bed. She moved in after me and pulled the blanket over us both for the desired heat on chilly nights like these.

"Mere?" I said after a few moments.

"Yes?"

"Don't fall in love."

She snorted. "Should be easy."

"If we're going to escape from here, we have to limit our bonds to the others," I whispered, knowing that it was easier said than done. We all had grown up together so leaving them behind would cause heartbreak. However, if freedom was what we wanted, freedom is what we'll find whether or not it'd cost our lives.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you all liked this chapter. Please remember to review and let me know what you think :)**

 **And not to worry you Dimitri luvahhhs, he's coming soon! :)**

 **Please review!**

 **ForsakenValkyrie7**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

 **A month later**

"Look at that minger!" Anthony, a questionably stupid boy I've known since young, gasped, doubling over from laughing too hard on the curtain wall a little off to the side from me. Next to him was Ryan, an equally thick minded warrior who believed he owned the dark power of seduction.

Yet even our cook threw her biggest pot at his face when he tried putting the moves on her.

It was a shame that he only received a black eye from it.

"That goon couldn't be any more of a halfwit," Ryan contributed, and then paused for a moment before cackling to himself, as if he reckoned he was funny.

I was sitting on a ledge, a small wooden extension built on the outer side of the curtain wall surrounding Eilean Donan. I was unsure of its purpose, however it was formerly known as my spot. I went there because after watching the surrounding lock and mountains and wild birds flying freely above for a time, all my troubles seemed to slowly fade in the background. The scene was so peaceful. Until you get the occasional rats, well wall rats was what I'd named them, ruining the peacefulness of clanging wooden swords against each other below and the scenery in front.

I turned my gaze away from the lock to see what they were talking about.

In the courtyard, Hans Croft, our other Commander, second in charge to Stan, was training the new recruits. As always, they lacked basic fighting skills and were laughed upon by wankers such as Ryan and Anthony. The tremendously amusing thing was that Ryan took twice as long as the rest of us to learn how to properly wield a sword. A wooden practice sword at that.

The recruits were divided into pairs and were sparring. They watched Hans with both interest and fear as he demonstrated the stances, attacks and blocks that were essential when in a sword fight. For now, they used wooden carved swords as practice.

"He's more of a fanny than a man," Ryan barked, followed by his snorting laughter, while pointing at the one of the recruits. I looked down at him, and noticed he was injured. His hair was as red as the flowers blooming in the nearby fields, but he had a nasty gash to the side of his head. The way he moved to avoid his partner was unbelievably stiff, as if he didn't want to hurt his opponent.

I grimaced. Even from afar I could detect that he was a kind hearted boy.

He was kind hearted for now, but not for much longer. The thought twisted my own heart.

When Ryan and Anthony burst out laughing because the red head was knocked to his bottom, in a sudden explosive rage, I leaped off from the ledge to the wall and when I swiftly moved in close enough, I kicked Ryan, being the closest, into the courtyard. Granted, the drop wasn't enough to severely damage him, but it was enough to get my point across. He fell face first into a pile of hay, with only his feet dangling out. The recruits paused in their sparring to gaze upon me. By now I had straightened up, and was glaring at the pathetic site of a shrieking Ryan.

The fact that Anthony scrambled away from me assured me my point was taken.

"Rosemarie!" Hans shouted, not impressed.

I jumped off the wall and was just able to mask my grimace before facing my commander. Although my injuries have only just properly healed, attempting to gracefully jump off a wall will need a little more practice.

Hans motioned a novice close to him to help a screeching Ryan out from where he remained stuck.

As always, Hans, who was always exasperated by my antics, shook his head whenever he saw me. He motioned me closer and after I made my way towards him, he gestured to Ryan still head first in the hay.

"Was that necessary?" he said, crossing his arms across his chest, which is something the commanders did when wanting to intimidate us, and they were damn good at it, especially when their stern facial expressions were on point.

Hans was brutal when he can to punishments; solely believing that misbehavior was not accepted nor is back chatting.

Nevertheless, I stood my ground and nodded fiercely. "They were giggling like little girls because one of the novices was smacked to his arse," I said defensively, gesturing at the red head who now was watching me closely. In fact, all of the novices did – which was expected. They were always fascinated by us, being fully trained warriors of the night. This round of novices were older than the usual that were adopted into our organization. Ages ranging from infants to ten were easily trained and therefore grew up in our organization having learnt respect.

This round looked no older than me which meant one simple thing – they were going to be harder to break. Because that was what essentially it meant to be part of the Resistance: you were broken into the soldiers they wanted you to be. And as cruel as it sounded, I knew that it not only made me tougher as a person, but also made me see that the world is not so black and white.

I turned away from the novices as Hans ordered them to continue sparring. He then turned to me. "Stan won't be pleased," he said, but stopped my protest by saying, "however, I will vouch for you this time if you assist with training today."

Training novices wasn't as bad as it sounded. All it took was patience, something I still had yet to learn.

I nodded. "Which ones, sir?"

"Him," he nodded towards the red head and shrugged. "Good luck."

I turned towards the boy, who was still staring at me and gestured to my right so he'd follow. Considering he wasn't so good in his stances, it was better to teach him away from the other novices. After he made it towards me, he looked up and his bright blue eyes caught me off guard. I never really had the chance to get a proper look at him and was startled to find him quite…attractive. The splash of freckles across his cheeks and his eyes alone made him look young, but his height said another time. He had a man's build yet underneath his plain peasant clothing, it was obvious he was on the lanky side. Which would not do.

We were trained to best Strigoi; there was no such thing as being a lanky warrior.

I cleared my throat and nodded down at his wooden long sword. "Drop it."

He looked momentarily surprised before complying. His eyes never left mine, and watched my every move.

"You have a poor stance," I said, slightly turning my head to the side. "What was your field of work before being rescued?"

"I'm starting to believe I was never _rescued_ , simply transported from one hell to the next," he said, with a hint of attitude laced in his words.

I almost smiled. _Almost_.

"I asked you a question," I said, starting again firmly.

His eyes left mine when he answer. "I was a farm boy."

I frowned. "Your build says otherwise."

His frame tensed, clearly offended. "Excuse me?"

"You say you were a farm boy yet your build is lankier than it is bulky. Isn't it part of your job to lift heavy crates and the like?" I enquired, then my tone darkened. "Or is my temporary student a liar?"

He visibly gulped and looked uncomfortable whilst briefly looking away. "I was a servant," he muttered.

Which, now, made a lot more sense. And considering his tone darkened, it made me think that his master was not kind to him, which, inside, made me soften a touch.

I nodded, starting again. I laced my fingers together behind my back and paced slowly in front of him.

"You will undergo various fitness exercises daily to boost your endurance so you can be one of us," I said, stopping right in front of him. "For your sake, I dearly hope that you will not show the same disrespect to my commanders as you've just showed me."

"It was just a simply lie-"

"Liars are deceivers and therefore classed as disrespectful. Respect is _earned_ and _learned_ here. If you fail to comply, the consequence will be your head," I said sternly, and although he took in what I said, I still saw this mischief side to him. Personally, I saw myself as warning him. I learned the hard way so warning others of their inappropriate behaviour is all I could've done in my position.

Wanting to change the soured mood, I nodded to his feet.

"Stance is the most important factor in any technique of fighting, whether it be fencing or the occasional brawl or on the battlefield. In many ways, stances are the very foundation of great swordsmanship," I said, then pointed to my foot. "Your foot position is the upmost important factor when determining your balance. The better you control your feet, the easier and more effective your expressed intensions will be," I said, watching as he took it all in.

"Now your feet should be spread shoulder width apart," I said, my feet mirroring what I said. He automatically copied my movement.

I nodded. "Good. Now, your weight is distributed equally on both feet in this position. See how your feet are facing me straight on? No good. Angle your feet slightly to the side and let your knees follow. It is essential that your feet and knees are aligned. It makes your stance a significant amount more stable-"

"And never stand flatfooted on both feet," Hans said, coming up from behind. The red head's eyes met Hans, and I noticed that his stance began to weaken in front of the commander. Superiority had that effect if one did not own confidence in oneself.

Hans pointed at the red head's foot with his wooden practice sword. "Your rear heel should be raised so that your weight can be distributed to the ball of your foot. That acts as your trigger for the most of your striking arsenal and it allows your foot to be alert and be able to move quicker and smoother than to stumble back."

The red head nodded and lifted his rear right heel. His leg was slightly trembling.

"Balance comes with practice," Hans said, aware of the unbalanced newcomer. He then turned to me and gestured to the castle. "Stan requests your presence. Best not keep him waiting," was all he said before motioning to the red head to pick up his practice sword and follow him. The red head did as instructed but as he trailed behind Hans, he turned back and our eyes met.

Mine gave nothing away but my heart missed a beat as he turned away. I inwardly cursed. Now was not a time to fantasize about stupid possibilities.

I turned away and left the courtyard promptly and walked up a flight of stairs that led to and from the courtyard to the castle. I slipped in through a side entrance that only the cook was meant to use as convenience when empting wastes and whatnot into the lock from the curtain wall. She and I had similar mannerisms which allowed us to get along far more than she would with the rest, and therefore allowed me to enter through her door whenever I had liked.

Finding Stan was easy, however I wasn't pleased to see him as I entered the great hall where he sat at the long wooden table that was facing the other rows of tables where the rest of us sat.

He sat in the middle, as being the first commander, and was staring at the enlarged portrait of his father hanging on the wall to his left. When I entered, his eyes cut into my own as I made my way passed the rows of tables and around the commanders' table to him. He turned to face me and I felt my bravado falter somewhat. I walked up to him and bent down on one knee before him and kissed his outstretched hand, trying my best not to flinch away.

"You wanted to see me, Commander?" I kept my tone professional as I straightened back up to my feet and looked down into his hellish eyes.

"Are you well?" was all he asked, with no compassion.

I nodded. "Yes, Commander." Three quarters of the truth. My reaction timing was on point, as always, however I was still stiff. I didn't dare tell him that.

Turned out my wound wasn't as deep as I had originally thought, and therefore my recovery was quicker than I had thought it to be.

He nodded and looked away, staring straight ahead.

"Good. You will leave tomorrow at sunset."

I blinked. After being informed of my assignment, I was left to my quarters for a week, barely touching my food because I was unable to stomach anything or any liquids. Meredith was the only reason I had eaten anything, because of her threatening constantly that she'd go for me and murder the queen. The mission was dangerous enough and I wouldn't ever let her or anyone else go for me, and not only because it was dangerous – but because I needed her to stay her to continue on planning our escape. My known plan making was always a touch more…reckless.

But after a week had passed, Stan let himself in and ordered me to leave. I remembered being mixed with outrage and shock. I wasn't in the position to run, let alone ride a horse!

Hans had followed him and called Stan a madman for suggesting for me to leave without properly healing. After a wave of commotion and arguments between the two, Stan had later agreed to give me three more weeks to recover before sending me off, which I was grateful for.

But now this was it – I was really going forth on the mission and there was no backing out now.

"You won't need your belongings," Stan continued. "Only your hidden weapons. You aren't to wear your armour for it will give you away."

I nodded, although I wasn't comfortable with travelling without armour. I'd be killed immediately and on spot without it…as did Arthur.

My thoughts darkened. Perhaps that was Stan wanted, to be rid of me earlier rather than later.

I gritted my teeth from the possibility of losing it in front of Stan and simply nodded.

"Understood, Commander."

"Go," was all he said. I bowed my head slightly before striding away from him. After stepping out from the great hall, my jaw slackened and I briefly paused to compose myself. I flexed my hands before tensing them into fists and lent down slightly as I brought them both up to my firm mouth. It was a something I had done since a child to calm my inner rage from exploding in front of everyone.

I dropped my fists to look upon them. They were my weapons, and after years of training I could clearly see that even though my hands were smooth, they'd been through a lot. I opened my hands and flipped them so I was looking down at my palms. My right palm had a fine but noticeable perfect line that ran across. It happened during the first actual training I had with a proper sword and my opponent was Stan's father, our former first commander. I remembered Stan watching, along with the others as I faced my commander. I was so confident when stepping up onto the platform. So unbelievably confident, filled with pride and was running off a high only a battle could give, and I didn't understand how this confidence, which now I understood was myself being naive, could actually cost me.

I was brutally defeated. Stan's father had literally kicked the flat side of my sword away from me, and all I could do was throw my hands up in surrender. I was stunned, terrified and embarrassed by how quickly I was defeated. Outraged, he twisted his body effortlessly in front of me, his sword swinging with elegance as did its master and sliced my right palm.

I was lucky to have kept my hand that day.

At the time I was in shock, staring dumbfound at my bleeding palm, completely confused as to why my commander would do that, and, more importantly, why I couldn't feel any pain.

I had fallen to my knees, the shorter strands of my hair that fallen loose from the tight braid an older girl had effortlessly tied fell down and was clouding my vision from my commander.

All I had heard was his boots as he slowly approached me and knelt down, and then brushing away my hair before grasping my chin in his rough hand and lifting my head so I looked up into his eyes.

"What did you do wrong, Rosemarie?" he had asked, his voice quiet but strong.

I didn't reply. All I did was stare at him, still unbelievably confused and still numb. His eyes pierced mine, daring me to look away.

"You gave up," he said, his tone was normal now. "Does a fight end when your weapon drops?" he asked, and I had known that this time he wanted an answer.

"Yes," I said, naively. Tears threatened to surface.

He shook his head. "No. You get back up and fight on. You find another weapon."

He stood and promptly threw his sword to the ground. He took a step back and leaned into a basic fighting stance and lifted up his fists.

"These," he said, nodding to his raised fists, "are your ultimate weapons. They aren't steel until you learn how to fight as if they are _made_ of steel."

By that time I felt a surge in me. I was beyond outraged and couldn't pay attention to whatever he had said after that. I looked down at my palm again, fainting thinking that it'd be the last time I'd have my hand attached to my body.

I was naïve, but that was because I was _young_. I was young and he had hurt me.

And I was pissed.

Commander had moved forward, obviously about to say something else when Stan, his son, stood from the crowd and stepped forward.

"Father, she's losing a lot of blood-"

Commander had turned his head at the sound of his son's voice and I saw my chance.

My bloody palm clutched to my chest, I had lunged forward and stopped midway and I lifted my leg to kick him in the crouch –

Someone pulled me back and a frustrated yell escaped me.

"Enough," the owner to the pair of arms that grabbed me and held me back said. I stopped struggling, realizing who it was. I looked back and saw Arthur Schoenberg staring down at me, his eyes softened when he saw that I was clutching my injured hand against my chest which made my blouse bloody as well.

"Calm yourself," he had whispered. A shadow fell upon his face and I turned as Commander crouched down next to us. I closed my eyes.

Immediately I awaited my punishment. My intentions had been clear – I wanted to hurt my commander, for he had hurt me. But our ranking was far apart, and I was simply a pawn in his army, and he was the leader.

I braced myself for my punishment, but when he made no move to strike me, I opened my and was surprised with what had been in front of me.

Commander's eyes weren't filled with hate or disappointment, they were filled with something else. Pride?

His hand moved towards me and on instinct I stiffened. He lifted his hand to the side of my head and kept it there as he maintained eye contact.

He then nodded. "I expected as much," he said to himself, then turned to his son who now stood behind him whom looked as equally confused as I was. He then turned back to me.

"We have here a warrior in the making," was all he said before dropping his hand from my head and standing up. He ordered someone to fetch the nurse to clean and bandage my wound. All the while I stood there, still numb from any form of pain, still zoning in and out. I turned back to Arthur, who was a middle age man back then, and he wore a soft smile.

"You will make a fine maiden warrior, Rose."

It was then when my tears started to flow.

Coming back to the present, I realized a single tear had fallen at the memory of Arthur.

I hadn't understood back then how important it was to have failed in the way that I had. The lesson it taught me proved to be a reasonably clever one that reformed and bettered my fighting style and attitude from then onwards.

I gently wiped the tear away before carrying on. I walked down the hall and instead of going back down the stairs leading to the kitchen, I turned left, walked down another passage and proceeded down the staircase. I exited the main part of the castle to an outdoor area that led me to the front of the castle. I then bypassed the front and made my way towards the west wing of the castle where I hoped to have found Meredith.

I inwardly grimaced when I saw that Emil, along with a few others from our organization, were leaning against the west wing castle.

One of them whispered something which made the rest, excluding Emil, doubling over in laughter. Emil didn't laugh or even paid attention; his eyes were on me.

I dropped my eyes, never faltering in my pace as I walked passed them and into the west wing. I made it five paces in when I heard him behind me.

"Rosemarie."

I stopped midstride. I sighed before turning around and looking up at him. Emil moved forward, letting the door close behind him. The others were still laughing outside.

The lamps were the only form of light now.

He moved forward until he stood before me and gave me a lazy grin.

"Haven't been graced by your presence lately."

"You've been busy," I said, giving a knowing gaze towards the door. "Sneaking off to get a little excitement elsewhere."

His grin dropped. "Sneaking off?"

I nodded slowly. "I thought it was no secret you couldn't get any here."

His eyes flashed and he took a step forward, all the while I waited for him to come closer to be able to slide my hands up his chest. The action baffled him and when he looked down at my hands, I pulled on his loose shirt to make him step forward and follow me.

He looked up at me and let out a sigh when I untucked his shirt and racked my hands against his bare skin.

He felt so warm under my touch and when I felt over his heart, I could hear it miss a beat. Looking away from my covered hands, I looked up at him and saw his lips were within kissing range.

Still, his eyes took in my every move and watched me like a hawk. I bit my lip, realizing where I went wrong, and leaned in and whispered into his ear, "I've had enough of you wasting energy on others. It's my turn."

His hands flew forward and gripped my hips, bringing me forward so that our bodies were now touching. Now his lips were definitely within kissing range.

A sigh slipped out from me as my hands slipped down his hard abdomen and grabbed his hands and promptly dropped them from my hips, then walked back lazily, swinging my hips, grinning like a fool.

His eyes took everything in; his breath coming out quicker now as he watched me walk back.

He then started to follow me as I led him further down the hall where the new recruits sleeping quarters will be. But as I knew, off to the left was a closet big enough to do what I wanted so badly to do to him.

I opened the door to the closest but that wasn't fast enough for him. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to the side and swung open the door. He walked into the closest with me in tow and closed the door.

In the darkness, he pulled tried to pull me close but I stepped back in time, twisted my waist and brought my open hand hard but accurately against his neck. He fell sideward against the wall before falling to the ground in a heap, unconscious.

"That's for dropping me," I growled then spat on him.

I opened the door so the light would flood in and allow me to see where I was going. I looked down at him and appraised myself.

Well done, Rose. He's going to be pissed when he wakes up.

"But I won't be here," I sang softly to myself.

The closet had no purpose so no one would notice the iron bar I barred the door with so he'd have a fun time trying to escape when he awoke. I walked out of the west wing with a spring to my step.

The sun had started to bask the world with its glow, which meant I was due for sleep. I noticed as I strolled out of the wing that Emil's fellow warriors had also abandoned him.

Giving up on trying to find where Meredith was, I quickly hiked back to my dorm. Upon entering, I was bombarded by Meredith herself. She flew from her bed and threw her arms around me. I managed to embrace her back and kick the door closed.

She sniffed softly before releasing me. I looked at her and immediately my good mood dropped.

Her eyes were puffy from crying and her hair was a mess.

"Don't cry," I whispered, gently brushing away her tears.

She sniffed again, looking miserable. "I can't believe you're going."

"How did you know of this? Only I was in the there…"

She looked down, shrugging. "I went looking for you after I heard what happened with Ryan, and I figured you'd only leave training if Stan requests your presence. I stood outside when he spoke to you….I'm sorry, forgive me. I should have stayed to comfort you but…," she broke off, crying softly again. I wrapped my arm around her and led her to her bed where I let her sit. I soon followed after and wrapped her blanket around us.

"I tried to find silk," she whispered, looking away after.

I frowned, adjusting a pillow against the wall before leaning back.

"Why would you look for silk?"

Her eyes flashed. "He's making you trek all the way to France without armour! What if something happens? I wanted to find silk so I could layer it under your day clothes so that at least you have somewhat protection."

I smiled, and rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. "I'll be fine. It'll be good to leave this place for a little bit but it won't be forever."

"It'll be long enough. What if you decide to stay there and live normally and-"

I twisted around and pulled her face towards mine to make sure I had her attention.

"I will come back for you," I said firmly, my eyes flashing. "I will never become a guardian. I'd die first. But if I am able to take refuge there-"

She suddenly reached up and grasped my hands in hers, tears still streaming down her face. "Do you not see? Do you know what the alternative profession is apart from being a guardian?"

"Come now," I said, brushing her off and scoffing at the idea.

"A blood whore," she said, her voice darkening. "Moroi men would line up for you, using your body for their satisfaction. You don't think there's not a whorehouse there? Do not be naïve, Rose."

"I will find another job. A contract, even-"

"The Moroi don't hire assassins, they have guardians for that," Meredith whispered harshly.

"I didn't say I'd work for the Moroi."

She paused, before it daunted on her and her eyes widened with shock. She pushed my hands away, frowning at me.

"You'd side with the Strigoi king?"

"Better than being a guardian."

"I actually don't believe so."

Now it was my time to frown at her. "So what you're telling me is that you'd rather escape here, not work for the Strigoi but become a guardian?"

She looked away. "They killed our parents, Rose."

It was a nightmare we shared – our villages had been desecrated by Strigoi and we had run side by side from the village. Our parents were presumed dead, as our first commander gently informed us back then and that this was our family now – the Resistance.

But it was never my family. There wasn't many in our organization that I trusted or that could lead us to peace because we were not peaceful people. We may be the caretakers of peace, but we ourselves would never find peace in our role. We were warriors. We were commanded to do our jobs as by our commander and the price for failure was death. It was that simple.

Now, throw in my case where I had failed and now to redeem myself, I must kill a powerful Moroi figure.

A queen.

Ever since I was informed of my new mission, I'd spent many nights wide awake, thinking of how my actions would shape our future.

Killing the queen will turn the whole Moroi capital into turmoil. They're be no leader, no king or queen to lead her former people to peace and harmony. Vasilisa can't possibly do anything while dead, and therefore in the period of deciding who would rule next, there would be chaos.

Now, with that being said, how would the people react to one another? There'd be no queen, so there would be no punishments to those who'd commit crime. The guardians could do their best to keep the people in line but would they really be able to maintain control?

No.

Rulers maintain that control and even though there'd be the odd murder of another, the laws she'd enforce were there to keep everything under control.

And with no one to control the people, they'd eventually be no people, would there? They'd be wiped out, by themselves for their differences, or by the Strigoi themselves.

So, would my actions then lead to a massacre? I had the power to possibly eliminate the guardians. Or better yet, all the Moroi royalty.

Coming back to the present, a thought occurred to me.

"What if they were ordered to do so?"

Meredith stiffened. "By whom?"

"The Moroi."

She scoffed, but before she could say anything I stood up. The blanket fell from my shoulders and landed in a heap next to Meredith. I walked to the center of the room before turning around to face her, my expression clouded.

"We were a peaceful village, and suddenly a group of Strigoi come through our safe haven? How did they know of our village's whereabouts?"

Meredith shook her head. "It was a random attack-"

"I don't believe that," I said, pacing. "I believe that that attack happened for one specific reason – to wipe us out for not being part of the capital…for not being raised to be guardians."

"Rose, we were so young. How do you know that our parents weren't in fact guardians?"

"I don't ever recall hearing the word 'guardian'."

"We were so young, Rose. We suffered afterwards, remember?"

I remembered. I remembered the weeks where eating wasn't appetizing or where sleep without nightmares hadn't occurred often. Or when I couldn't be left alone, for the fear of being slaughtered.

"I remember," I whispered, turning away. "But I still don't believe it just happened for no reason. I never did."

"So you're blaming the Moroi?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes in thought.

"It's a coincidence that I can't ignore. It makes sense for them to do so," I whispered, turning back around and looked down at Meredith. "I'll kill the queen, but before doing so I plan on finding out the truth."

A light wind swept my loose strands out from my vision as I stepped away from Eilean Donan. The night was clear, not a cloud in site. It was peaceful, aside from the comforting wooden swords clanging against each other coming from the courtyard. The recruits were continuing on with their training, as per normal. The only thing that struck me as off when I awoke was the lack of Meredith's presence. I had just assumed that saying our goodbyes was too much for her to bare. I understood, but the sick feeling in my stomach didn't help. I wanted to say that I'll be coming back and that she couldn't get rid of me so easily to make her feel a bit better, but after I dressed in my normal attire, I left, no time to write her a note.

My blouse ruffled in the wind from the light breeze as I walked, weaponless, from the castle. My boots crunched against the dirt as I made my way towards the bridge separating the castle from land. I paused before moving through the open gates of the surrounding curtain wall. I turned back, looking at Eilean Donan, fearing it'd be for the last time. I only owned fear for Meredith and no other reason. She wouldn't survive without me here, and it'd worry me sick while being gone more than my leaving to her.

"Wait!" a woman cried. Looking from the castle, I frowned, and turned back towards the west wing to where I saw someone run towards me. Meredith.

Her hair flew in the wind as she bolted to where I was standing and threw her arms around me, clutching me close. My arms wound around her and the sickening feeling was gone, replaced by butterflies as I hid my face in her shoulder.

"I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye," she said, her voice thick.

"Don't think of it as goodbye," I mumbled, hugging her tighter before letting her go. I grasped her by the shoulder, and looked into her watery eyes.

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. Wait for me," I said sternly, my eyes widened and my eyebrows shot up slightly to challenge her to do anything stupid while gone.

She chuckled, then sniffed before nodding. "I'll try to keep in line. As will you, I hope."

"Can't promise anything," I said, winking. I gave her one last quick hug before stepping backwards, smiling at her.

"Will you tell anyone of my story?" I said, grinning now, still walking backwards.

"About the great warrior maiden who's getting cocky about her mission?" Meredith said, rolling her eyes, but grinning all the same.

"I'm off to kill a queen, that's quite a story in itself!" I protested.

Meredith gave in, nodding. "Ok. How about the warrior maiden that'll make the world spin accordingly again?"

"Ooh, I'm interested now. Tell me more," I said, quite a few paces from her now and was well and truly through the open gates. I still managed to walk backwards though, mind you.

"Hear the tale of Rosemarie the Great! Off on an adventure to fulfil her destiny and avenge her family!" she had to shout this time as the wind started to pick up.

I stopped suddenly, and looked at her, knowing all too well that we'd shared the same empty feeling: loneliness. Without a proper family, I had adopted her into being my sister and the same went for her.

Tears threatened as I grinned at her again, fearing it'd be the last time I'd see her.

"To avenge our families!" I shouted back.

I heard her laugh which was cut short and even though I wasn't in front of her, I knew without a doubt that those tears in her eyes had spilled.

I nodded to her one last time before turning around. My smile dropped, as did my temporary happy shared mood with Meredith, as now it was time to do what was asked of me.

I felt a great burden on my shoulders as I made my way passed the bridge and unto the dirt pathway. I saw three figures waiting up ahead; two men and a woman, all with their back to me.

My jaw tightened when I glanced at the two left figures, a man and a woman, realizing what they were.

Strigoi.

Stan stood to the right, arms stretched behind his back and his hands were clasped. I knew this pose. I was late, and I was about to be lectured.

I sighed, coming up short behind them, knowing too well that Stan knew of my arrival, yet still wouldn't turn around. The Strigoi were in deep conversation when I broke the silence.

"Commander."

The Strigoi immediately stopped their chatter and turned to me. I looked sideways at them, noting every feature, every possible weakness, every hesitation before the man made a move.

He turned completely towards me and it was then when I realized just how tall he was. I grimaced inwardly. He had been a Moroi.

His flowing black hair stood contrast against his death white complexion. His eyes watched me, possibly trying to determine whether or not I had it in me to kill the queen.

I maintained eye contact, giving nothing away.

"You must be Rosemarie," he said, throwing me a grin, not bothering to hide his fangs.

"Rosemarie," the woman spoke my name as if she was a snake, drawing out the last part of my name as she slowly turned and moved towards me, exaggerating her every move and grinning at me with her fangs in full view. Her red rimmed eyes pinned mine, daring me to look away.

She was trying to intimidate me.

I clicked my tongue, turning my head to the side, looked her up and down before moving forward. Her grin dropped and she narrowed her eyes at me when I started to circle around her.

My eyes flickered up and down when I stood behind her. All the while the male Strigoi watched me in curious silence. Stan knew exactly what I was doing but said nothing.

She wore a leather tunic and underneath was a white blouse that flew in the wind. Her brown hair wasn't as long as mine but still sat beautifully down her back. It was a shame she was Strigoi, they weren't beautiful creatures.

My eyes suddenly narrowed at her. The way she was acting: the constant shift between her feet, the looks she'd throw over her shoulder at me, unsure of what I was doing but remained silent. She had her first mistake then: not turning around.

I stepped back, dropping all emotion from my face when it dawned on me.

I then took a small step to the left with my left leg, still behind her, and as I anticipated, she had started to turn her head towards her left. In that same motion, with my right leg, I kicked a nearby rock to the left so it'd catch her attention for a split second and in the following second my right leg stepped back swiftly for balance. My hands flew forward and when she turned her head forward slightly, realizing too late that I had turned right instead of left, I reached the rest of the way around her neck and snapped it.

She fell limp in front of me. My hands fell to my sides as I turned towards the male Strigoi, who now stared at his fellow partner, eyebrows raised.

I narrowed my eyes at him when he straightened and stared at me.

"I'm disappointed," I said, then looked back at Stan. "Does the Strigoi king seem fit to escort me with a foolish newly turned Strigoi?" I demanded.

"She will do," was all Stan said, then turned on his foot and walked a few paces away from us.

The male Strigoi snickered, before giving me a sideward glance. "She'll be even more foolish when awoken," he said, then his tone turned serious. "I am equipped to protect you myself, she's just extra."

"Extra what?"

"Disposable baggage," he said with a sweet smile.

I promptly walked away.

Sometimes after conversing with Strigoi, it's entirely probable to forget that they're emotionless killing machines when they seem so…normal. Aside from the deathlike pale skin and the red trimmed eyes, they looked completely the same. They're selfish, compulsive beings and it's of no surprise to see that they share no love for one another. I had no doubt that the woman would be 'disposed' of if she got on his nerve enough.

Still, they're repulsive and it'd take a lot of time, effort and patience to deal with them on such a long voyage.

I came up beside Stan, and crossed my arms across my chest.

"Commander, I-"

"Look forward, Rose," he said, his tone was neutral.

I frowned at him before complying. Before us was Eilean Donan…home. The curtain wall that protected our sanctuary stood bold and strong and Eilean Donan looked almost majestic within…had it not looked so black.

"Eilean Donan," Commander said, before brushing his hand across his face, as if he was drained from exhaustion. Unlike before, I accessed him and realized he was tired. No longer was he the young man and the sort of reckless nature he used to own. Now he was simply older but a younger version of what his father had been, and yet so much worse.

"What worries you, Commander?" I asked.

He momentarily bit the inside of his lip before turning to me. "You do, Rose."

His revelation would have caught me off guard if I hadn't known him any better.

"This mission," Stan started, then sighed softly as if he regretted saying anything more. Stan was a man of few words, all of which were of seriousness and of no playful matter attached, ever. He was troubled, as always.

Near the curtain wall was a moving light and after turning towards the mysterious light I noticed a lone warrior moving across the bridge with a flickering lantern leading three stallions towards Stan and I.

I noticed with a pang in my heart that Banter was one of them. The day of Arthur's murder, the horses were ridden back before they bothered taking Arthur's and Serena's bodies, along with the others, back to Eilean Donan for a proper burial. I was beaten up in the process so sometime later I assumed that those who came back for the horses and bodies were a long way ahead of myself and those who stayed for the beating.

The warrior dismounted from the middle stallion and I realized then who he was.

Ryan.

After bowing his respects to Stan, he didn't so much as look in my direction as he quickly made his way back to the castle.

On cue, Banter moved forward towards me. I smiled, and brushed the strands of his perfect knot-free hair from his eyes before patting his cheek. It was one of the only times I've been able to see him since that day. He breathed out softly as I moved around him and swiftly jumped into the saddle and grabbed the reins.

"This mission," Stan started again. He briefly regarded my stallion before locking eyes with me. "It is not exactly a simple golden hit to the heart and the queen suddenly drops where she stands." He then held his hand out and I briefly hesitated before giving him the reins. He moved forward and Banter followed. Stan walked until we were facing the loch surrounding Eilean Donan.

"You'll be committing treason and, of course, I have no doubt you'll be able to escape without much hassle. But," he paused. "If you are caught and tortured, you are on your own, Rose. This must not come back to us, although the Moroi will likely suspect it. For this reason, I suggest a plan to you before you depart."

"Commander Stan," the Strigoi interrupted, coming up short to my left on one of the stallions with the woman draped across his lap. "We were scheduled to have left by now-"

"Then, by all means, Isaiah, start upon your journey. Rose will follow."

And just like that, Stan dismissed the Strigoi. Isaiah gave Stan a tightly thinned smile before motioned his stallion to the right, with the reins of the remaining horse, and trotted away from us.

After watching him go, Stan turned back to me. "I propose you plant a suspect in the Moroi's heads, differ them from the killer, being you, and instead towards another figure – someone who they wouldn't suspect. One thing to learn about the Moroi is their love for gossip, the never-ending dull chatter they all seem to engage in."

"Understood, Commander."

"Be warned, Rosemarie. The Moroi were put in power, as they are thought to be superior to dhampirs. But mull over this. Has there ever been a truly successful king or queen that remained hidden behind his or her protectors throughout their rein?"

"No," I said sternly. "They'd be the first ones to run towards the enemy, to be in the frontline and protect _their_ people, not be _protected_ _by_ their people."

"The Moroi are useless beings and don't deserve the right to rule and sit behind lines of their people. They must be stopped. The Moroi have never been courageous people…now their queen is attempting to awaken this courage within her people, but all it is really doing is quickening her murder. Her head is on the line, and my guess is another Moroi will be behind the murder, because why should they have to risk their necks when they've never had to?"

The queen…the only Moroi royal in history to ever speak of the Moroi engaging in battle. How many Moroi cowards would be after her head? Surely they'd band together, forming a plan to remove her from the throne.

If the entire Moroi race owned the same courage as their queen did and not enslave dhampirs into guardianship, then perhaps the Moroi wouldn't be as much of nuisance as current, or in the past.

Which meant killing her was an essential piece to the puzzle. The ultimate puzzle of destruction. First the queen, then her people, leaving the Strigoi as the final piece. The Resistance would rein supreme and we'd have no further enemies and then possibly lead normal lives, as Meredith and I had hoped.

"My mission isn't just to assassinate her," I said, pausing. "It's to get there first to deal the final blow."

"We'll have another edge on the Strigoi if we're the ones to kill her, but that will be invalid if someone else that wasn't from the Resistance were to do it first. First her, then the Strigoi king. I'm counting on you to bring back home our prize – her head."

The breeze picked up and the strands that escaped my braid flew across my face, however my eyes never left Stan.

"You have my word that she'll be coming back with me, Commander. Dead or alive."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello readers! Please review and let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the plot. All characters belong to Richelle Mead.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

The journey from Eilean Donan was not one of comfort. Our only option was to travel by night, curtesy of my escorts. We'd rest until just after sunset and then were off on our way. Pausing for breaks were of a minimum, which was why I catered for Banter and the other horses as best as I could throughout the entire journey before crawling into one of the rooms at a local tavern.

Most days went by without a moment of sleep. It wasn't that I didn't welcome sleep; I simply couldn't close my eyes for long enough. I had lain awake, staring up at the roof, watching as the sunlight slipped in through the poorly made shutters; day dreaming of the queen.

I envisioned of running towards her, a blade clutched in my grasp tightly as I sprang up from behind her and delivered the final blow. I'd close my eyes, imagining her blood soaking her royal attire, her lifeless eyes staring straight ahead in darkness.

Almost instantly after envisioning the queen's death, flashes of Meredith came into mind, blocking me of the previous thoughts. It was after the second day of restlessness and of no sleep that I realised that it was Meredith that was making me feel on edge.

She wasn't stupid, but she was defenceless there without me. I was forced to leave and even though I was determined to redeem myself, I resented Stan for making me leave. I pictured her face before my departure; her tears falling down her face as her unruly hair flew in the wind.

The door to my cramped room creaked open and I sprung to my feet. Elena, the constantly agro female companion of Isaiah, came face to face with me. Her eyes rolled.

"Did you not hear the stones thrown against your window?" she grumbled.

I nodded. "Yes, but as my escort, you're supposed to _escort_ me out of my room."

Elena hissed at me as she followed me out. I walked across the wooden flooring to the descending stairs and made my way down to the first level of the tavern, which was crowded by drunken men and women, all of whom were humans. I scanned the room for Isaiah and found the owner of the tavern instead, beaming at me under his crooked glasses. I nodded my respects to him before letting myself out into the night. A group of men were about to enter as I exited, all of whom stood back to let me by, while Elena shoved her way through them.

Shouts of outrage and annoyance followed. Paying no attention to her smart remarks and the filth coming from the men, I walked down the strip of road until I saw Isaiah with the horses. He tended to his horse, fitting the saddle properly. He looked up when he heard me approach.

"Finally, she arrives," he said, throwing me a smirk.

Banter stood patiently next to Isaiah's horse, completely relaxed. The Resistance's stallions were used to the presence of Strigoi and therefore did not sense fear towards them. Caution yes, however Banter, along with the other two stallions, remained relaxed and at ease.

I ran my hand across Banter's neck and as he turned his head to the side I trailed my hand through his unknotted mane. I smiled down at him, before looking over him at Isaiah.

"Elena is causing a scene again," I sighed, realising then that the lack of sleep was making me irritated by everything. The last thing I needed was to be in a mood. Not exactly professional.

"She'll then have to catch up," Isaiah said as he launched himself up of his horse and grabbed the reins of Elena's horse. After fitting the saddle unto Banter, I pulled myself up on him and egged him onto hopefully the last stretch of the journey.

"Are we close by?" I asked, after a few minutes.

Over the past week, we've followed lochs, gone through mountainsides and valleys and leaving Scotland behind before travelling through England. Keeping a low profile was the reason for the delayed travel time as the shortcut continuously turned into going an alternative longer way. I had to remind the Strigoi, mostly Elena, of strictly not leaving behind bodies in our wake on our journey. Seemed that not only was Elena a foolishly newly turned Strigoi, but she most definitely didn't own common sense previous to her change in specie.

After the second day, I stumbled across her draining a man in the woods. We had stumbled across a village in the mountains, after being forced to take an alternative route because of Isaiah sighting a group of dhampirs, whom were not of the Resistance, travelling on the main strip of road. Isaiah had been in front and at that time was blocking my sight of any upcoming travellers, when he swiftly steered his stallion to the left.

"To the trees," he had harshly whispered.

Without a moment of delay, I had sharply manoeuvred Banter left up the small hill and into the cover of the trees. I then edged him further into the forest before dismounting and stealthily moving through the trees. I'd moved towards where Elena and Isaiah stood, hidden behind the last row of trees before the hill, and moved to the tree next to Isaiah. Hidden from sight, I had turned my head ever so slightly to view the upcoming group of people.

They were horseback riders, protected by leather armour. Their build was what gave them away.

Dhampirs.

My mouth had curved into a sneer.

"What are they doing here?" Elena whispered harshly.

"Surveying," Isaiah whispered back.

I hadn't dropped me sneer until they went out of sight from where we had come.

"We need to take an alternative route," was all Isaiah said, before walking back to his stallion.

Elena had followed him back but I remained where I stood, becoming one with the tree. My eyes watched the same place I'd seen them disappear from and wondered why I hadn't of acted when I could've.

The Moroi, and therefore their Dhampirs, could've played a significant role in my family's deaths. I could've killed every one of them except leaving one to live, barely, and sent him back to his people as warning. I flexed my hands, hungry to clutch a weapon and commit destruction.

But that would make the Moroi suspicious and probably double the guard at their sanctuary and therefore would make my short voyage that much more difficult because of something as insignificant as entry to the their castle.

I breathed in and out through my nose, attempting to calm myself and control my irritably overpowering anger.

"Rose," Isaiah had called, bringing me out from my darkened thoughts.

Returning to Banter, we then rode in silence as we trudged through forest before, much later on, stumbling across a village. Isaiah and Elena pulled up their hoods to obscure their identity as we moved towards the village's inn. I dismounted Banter and after making sure he had access to water and hay, I then left the Strigoi to do as they wanted while I slept. After paying for a room in the inn, I then trudged up to my room and had remained awake for hours after, just staring at the wooden ceiling.

I had become restless and annoyed by my sleeplessness. Determined to tire myself out from my lack of cooperative sleep pattern, I had decided to go for a run through the woods when I stumbled across her.

Elena was hunched over a man, her leather armour had scratch marks running across where his hands had once tried escape her. Now those hands were clutching her to him, his head fell back, in pure ecstasy as she dug her fangs into his neck.

Outraged, I had pumped my arms and legs as fast as I could towards her. Elena heard me and looked up, her lips and chin sticky with blood. She hissed at me as I slid to a stop.

"You piece of filth," I snarled. "You are leaving a trace!"

Perhaps this was why there were dhampirs travelling on the main road, casually 'surveying' the area. They weren't 'surveying', they were hunting for us! How many bodies has she left drained since we had the Resistance?

"Calm yourself, Rose," Isaiah spoke from behind me.

I whipped my head around to face him and was startled to see his blood smeared white blouse. He grinned, showing me his fangs and how blood was still swimming in his mouth.

"We must feed to survive," he said, shrugging as he adjusted his cuff, oblivious to the blood. "Just was you consume the fresh bread and clean water, we only hunger for blood."

"You killed your victim?" I spat, biting back on what I had wanted to snarl at him.

He nodded eagerly. "Why of course, my dear. I know your terms on this little voyage of ours. We aren't allowed to leave corpses behind," he said, and winked.

Coming back to the present, I shook away that sickening feeling of when I found out of how they were 'disposing' their victims.

It had been the night when we travelled across the English Channel that separated England from France. She and I had been leaning against the starboard side on the deck of a ferry. A light wind passed us, springing strands of my hair from my face. She had pulled herself up to sit on the ledge, grinning down at me.

I had shot her a black look when she forgot to hide her fangs. Humans, and mostly children, were on the deck as well as us, taking in the distant lit up scenery and excitement of travel.

"You are so serious," Elena remarked, looking down at me, all the while smiling.

I shifted my arms against the edge of the ferry before leaning back into it. "Life isn't a game."

"I believe you are mistaken."

I had ignored her, so ready to be rid of her. Instead, I looked out onto the black water of the channel, half expecting to be startled by a sea mammal.

When I hadn't of replied, she pressed on. "I believe only the players survive," she said lightly, scanning the humans. "It was why choosing to change was so easy. We're machines, our prey are fearful of us because of our power. Of our _strength_."

I looked up at her, frowning. "So that's why you kill? To have power over those who are powerless to you?"

Her grin dropped, and her lips thinned into a tight line as she hopped off the edge of the ferry. She took a couple steps forward so she stood close to me, all the while I maintained eye contact.

"I kill because I need to feed-"

"You kill because you like it," I threw back at her under my breath.

She smirked. "Aye, that as well. There's nothing more satisfying then throwing your drained victims over a cliff, as I've done so many times this trip…for you. To 'abide' by your 'rules'," she sneered.

I kept my expression neutral while fuming inside. "How nice of you to cover up your sins ever so gracefully. You should be so proud," I said, turning away from her, silently bidding for her absence before I'd gut her.

"Do not fret, warrior," she said, moving passed me. Before she left, she turned to me slightly. "A person cannot be identified if it has no head," she said, grinning at me before walking away.

I blinked a few times, coming back to the present and realised Isaiah held out his coat to me. I frowned, noticing for the first time that I was shivering.

I looked sidewards at him, and took his coat, fitting one arm in and then the other. The coat dwarfed me, and ironically, I was thankful towards the Strigoi.

"You've no use for it anyway," I remarked, as I grabbed hold of the reins once more. "Strigoi don't feel the cold."

"Aye," he said, and then smirked. "To answer your previous question, yes, we aren't far at all. It is quite an inspiring city," Isaiah mused, adjusting his hood to cover his face.

"Wait!" I heard a woman call from behind us. I sneered into the darkness, wishing so badly we had lost her.

Elena rode up next to Banter, throwing us a devilish grin. "Why, thought you'd be rid of me already?"

"How unfortunate to hear you're still with us," I replied dully.

She let out a small hiss but didn't respond.

We rode through the town, passing locals on our way. A smell caught my attention, directing my focus to a bakery on the left. A young woman stood outside, enticing anyone who cared to listen to try a piece of freshly made bread.

"It's well and truly passed baking time," Elena whispered, turning toward me. "Why would she still be making bread at this time of night?"

I frowned, looking around and noticed that a lot of the stores were in operation still. Locals wore casual appropriate attire as they strolled through the streets, trying various types of consumptions and paying for those they favoured.

A group of young women, completely unaware, walked towards the middle of the road, almost directly in front of Banter before I pulled back on his reins, halting him to a stop. The women gasped when Banter gave a reluctant sigh. One of the girls even took a step forward and held her hand out to pat his cheek. Isaiah and Elena had stopped as well; Elena hastily fitting her hood closer around her face.

I looked down at the girl as Banter leaned towards her hand and saw her jade green eyes light up with glee.

"Hello," the girl said, grinning up at me, pushing her long light brown hair from her face.

I smiled back, attempting to cover up my uneasiness. "Hello."

"You have quite a majestic beast here!" she gushed, continuously patting Banter.

Isaiah cleared his throat to capture my attention but I refused to look at him.

"He's a stallion," I said, looking closely at her, wondering why I was sensing something off about the girl. Her skin was pale, and her height suggested one thing while her youthful looks suggested another. Could she just be tall for her age?

"There aren't many horses where I live."

"Where do you live?" I asked, frowning. She didn't live here? Perhaps a neighbouring town.

She pointed towards the edge of the town where the road ended and led toward something in the distance…something that was lit up.

"Right over there. Do you see the castle?" she asked, turning back towards me with her eyebrows raised in query.

"Rose," Isaiah said under his breath, his eyes pinning me in place.

"You live in a castle?" I asked, pressing on as I looked passed him at the lights in the distance.

"My queen does. She's impeccably beautiful-"

The girl rambled on as I stared ahead at the lights. We had arrived. The castle was only miles away. My breath came out unevenly as I attempted to calm myself, reminding myself I was here for a mission and then to simply depart back home.

I looked back down at the girl and suddenly realised what the strange feeling had been.

"You're a Moroi."

I usually wasn't ever up close and personal with one of her kind, which was why I was startled. Their skin was quite pale, and I recalled that they don't exactly get as much sun as dhampirs do, hence her skin colour.

The girl stopped, her eyes growing wide as she looked up at me. She took a step closer.

"How do you know that? Are you a-"

"Dhampir," I finished, nodding. I realised that my attire was anything but form fitting, and thank goodness for that because that is usually was gives me away. "I have travelled a long way and need to speak with your queen."

The girl was astonished, still staring at me with wide eyes. "Are you a refugee?"

I bit my lip hard and bid my eyes to water so that I looked helpless. I blinked and a tear fell.

"Yes," I whispered, noticing her naïve eyes turned sad almost immediately.

"Go to her," she said, reaching up and touching my knee. I blinked in surprise.

"She will accept you, all you need to do is ask and she will grant you sanctuary," the girl said, nodding eagerly.

"Where will I find her?" I asked, wiping away a tear.

The girl said, "She will be in the market, just ask the guards at the entrance and they will lead you to her."

"Thank you," I whispered, delivering her a sad smile as I gently edged Banter forward, manoeuvring around the others girls.

"I hope to see you there!" the girl called, and I turned back to her and nodded softly, still smiling.

As I turned forward the smile dropped. I looked sidewards to Isaiah and grinned widely.

"I know where she will be. The marketplace," I said.

Isaiah nodded, giving me a sly grin. "Well done, Rosemarie."

We rode out of town and I prepared myself for what I was about to witness. What would the castle look like? Will it be easy to scale up the walls? Was the population big enough so that I could move through the crowd stealthily?

Was the castle as black as Eilean Donan? That thought was what really caught my mind in a twist.

We pressed the horses on. The wind was starting to pick up and before long I realised why. We rode the rest of the way from the town and through various sand dunes that separated the town to the castle. We passed through the last remaining dune before confronted with a glorious sight.

I pushed away my hood, letting it fall as my eyes took in what was before me.

"Welcome, warrior, to Mont Saint Michel," Isaiah said, chuckling under his breath at my reaction.

My eye widened as I took in the castle. She sat high on what looked to be a rocky island, torches lighting up the entire landscape and a mirror image was printed on the area in front of the castle.

"My god," I whispered.

Mont Saint Michel was a tidal island. The mirror image was printed on the calm waters surrounding the island. A break through the water was the only connection between island and land.

"She is only accessible by that causeway," Isaiah spoke, pointing to the raised break between the water. It was wide enough to fit a handful of carts side by side and was a long stretch between land and island.

"I've been told that that causeway is always above sea level. Well, mostly anyway," Isaiah said, looking sideward at me.

"It's a fortress," I whispered.

"Aye," he replied. "There's no chance of Strigoi making it across into the castle. They've guards on every tower," he said, pointing towards the circular structures that surrounded the island where the curtain wall sat. Surprisingly, the wall wasn't as high as I'd thought it would be.

"The wall is only high enough to keep the tides away," Isaiah continued, as if he'd read my mind. "They've wards in every tower to keep us out. They don't even accept humans within the walls as a precaution."

I smirked. "Clever bastards."

Slaving humans into believing they'd be turned into Strigoi if they would do their bidding was a common practice, one the Resistance knew well of. The Moroi were not stupid after all. They'd never accept a human in case of their alternative motive with their Strigoi masters.

"Strigoi are butchered on site," Elena spat, spitting on the ground to her left.

"And the tides? Is the land accessible during low tide?" I asked.

"The sands around the island act like quicksand. You'd make it two feet before sinking into them," Isaiah replied, then pointed to the causeway. "That's your best bet into escaping. _If_ you escape."

"I will," I muttered, determined to complete my mission.

"Well then, shall we begin?" Isaiah enquired, turning towards me.

I frowned. "Begin what?"

As I turned, I realised too late my mistake as I saw a flash of metal coming straight for me. I managed to turn to my side as a blade struck into my shoulder. I yelled in pain as Isaiah swiftly stabbed me and jutted the blade out. Banter gave a startled protest and lurched forward.

Pain flooded my senses as I let go of the reins and clutched my shoulder. I released my shoulder and shakily opened my hand.

Blood. A lot of it now stained my blouse as I looked down.

Elena gave a shout as she lurched her horse forward and swung a blade at me. This time I ducked and in that second moment, I managed to jump up unto Banter's saddle and twisted as I lifted my leg and kicked her off her stallion. She was sent flying and her stallion took off into the darkness. Isaiah was attempting to gain control of his scared stallion as I jumped off Banter and flung myself down onto Elena, wrestling the blade from her. She attempted to snap at me, her fangs missing my neck by millimetres as I rolled to the right, bringing her on top of me and made a daring attempt to bite down hard on her wrist which left her grip on the blade to lessen as she screamed in anger. I let go of her arm and flung the blade away from her.

The blade fell into in the water behind me and I kicked her off me before she could snap at my neck again. I swiftly got to my feet and stumbled backwards as I tried looking for the blade. Looking to my right, I had just found it as I saw Elena charge at me.

I looked at her as I fell back, knowing I'd fall into water and knew that if I didn't pull off this manoeuvre, then my chance of survival wouldn't be high.

I remembered when I had first learned the technique. I was much younger, having already been taught balance and intermediate sword skills. It was early one afternoon in the courtyard and Commander Arthur had been teaching us various exercises when he suggested teaching us a new technique. I remembered how excited I was until he told us what we had to do.

"Today, you are going to learn effective body positioning when falling over backwards," he had said, his eyes shining with amusement when he saw the look of dread on our faces. I remembered turning towards Meredith with wide, startled eyes and saw our reactions were mirrored.

"Think of how disadvantaged your opponent will think you are _if_ they manage to knock you back," he said, hands clasped behind his back and amusement twinkling in his eyes. He stopped pacing and took us all in. "We train you to be warriors. Not just assassins or wet boys and girls. Not just swordsman or archers. _Warriors_. You are all those things combined and more," Arthur had said, smiling at us. "You don't own fear. One who owns fear does not keep in control. Just like falling backwards," he said, slowly bringing his arms out to the side and promptly fell backwards, which startled us all, and as he fell, he curved his back so he could tumble gracefully back to his feet.

The courtyard had echoed with gasps and cheering. I grinned at him, wanting to be able to do whatever and however he had just done that.

"When you have no fear, you're invincible," he had said, a little out of breath. "Now, let's begin."

As I looked up at Elena as I fell, I threw my arms out just as I had done so many times, knowing I'd fall in water. As I fell, I had already curved my back as I hit the water and made contact with the sand. My hand quickly grasped hold of the blade, and with my feet, I gave a powerful kick to Elena's abdomen as she sprung on me, and sent her flying behind me into the water. My back was curved as I briefly went under water and I tumbled backwards. I swiftly found my footing, my upper body escaped the water and as I twisted around to see Elena coming for through the water, I stretch back my arm and flung the blade at her.

The blade sank into her neck.

She choked, struggling to breathe and was wheezing while shakily reaching for the blade. I recovered from the shock of successfully pulling it all off within seconds, and bolted toward her. I grabbed hold of the blade and stared into her wild eyes.

"Kind regards," I spat as I wrenched the blade to the left and sliced half her neck off before twisting the blade and beheading her.

Her body fell into the shallow water as I stood there, drenched in water and blood. I slowly turned towards where Isaiah stood on land, an arrow nocked against the longbow he carried with him always. Pointing at my heart.

Of all things, I didn't expect him to burst in laughter.

"Oh, Rosemarie. You truly are a warrior," he said, laughter in his voice.

I sneered at him, slowly walking towards him through the shallow water. I had my complete and utter attention on him.

"Uh uh, that's close enough. Do you want an arrow to your chest?" he asked, and a second later released the arrow. I swiftly moved to the right and caught it just by a thread.

"You're a terrible escort," I informed him, snapping the arrow in half and dropping it in the water.

He grinned but backed away as I continued to advance on him.

"I was curious to see whether you had it in you to kill a royal," he said, then shrugged. "I guess I've got an answer."

I twirled the blade between my fingers. "Is that so?"

"One final test though, curtesy of my king," he said, smiling. "I want to play a game, Rosemarie. I want to see who can kill her first."

"The queen? You can never get close enough," I snarled, continuing to advance.

Isaiah brushed his long hair over his shoulders and brought around another arrow before nocking it.

"That's the thing, Rosemarie. I said only the towers have the magical wards protecting them. The wards keep the undead out, not wooden arrows," he said, smiling in that uncanny way of his. I stopped advancing and frowned, looking briefly at the castle.

At that brief moment of distraction, Isaiah had lunged forward and thrown me back, sending me flying into the water. I crashed backwards into the sea, water flooding my senses. I frantically surfaced, coughing up sea water that I swallowed. I blinked rapidly to regain focus and noticed Isaiah walking away, waving at me with his longbow.

"You have ten minutes, Rosemarie. You either kill the queen, or I will. If I succeed, I will report back to my king and your commander of your failure," he called, as I rushed out of the water. "Tick tock, Rose."

I breathed heavily as I contemplated whether or not to follow him when I realised I had dropped the blade. I spun around, looking at the water with as much hatred as I felt towards Isaiah.

"Banter!" I called, twisting around and noticing he was nowhere in sight.

I cursed, damning everything to hell as I started running for the causeway, the stinging pain of the shoulder was a distance hum. I must've lost a considerable amount of blood since I was not only unable to run in a straight path, I was starting to feel fatigued and my vision was becoming hazy.

Shaking my head to be rid of the haziness and fatigue, I turned toward the island and, to my horror, I noticed figures leading out from the gates and making their way toward the causeway.

A small noise of frustration escaped me. I tried my best to ignore the haziness and maintain my consciousness as I sprinted onto the causeway.

Should I alert them to a Strigoi's presence and further frighten them or act natural? I briefly looked down at my shoulder and saw my entire blouse was soaked in blood.

Scaring them, it is.

"Stop!" I screamed, clutching unto my shoulder. How many minutes had gone by already?

"Turn back!"

I pumped my arm and legs across the causeway, trying my hardest to signal the advancing locals. Nothing. I harshly cursed, giving up on shouting sentences and figured shouting the one word they'd dread would suffice.

"Strigoi!" I shouted.

The mass of people who set foot onto the causeway paused, finally taking note of me.

"Strigoi!" I shouted again.

I looked back, trying to see if Isaiah was somewhere within site when I was startled to see that people were also coming onto the causeway from land, still merry, completely unaware of the danger. Of _me_. I was wasting minutes trying to save these people I realised.

But I had to do something.

 _Why_ , a voice inside spat back at me. _They're one of them! They're the enemy!_

I looked back in front of me and was thankful to see the rushed movement of the group moving back into their guarded island. I gritted my teeth, knowing better, but still halted to a stop and ran for the possible victims to a massacre.

"Run!" I yelled at the families now making their way toward the causeway.

They were as startled to see me as I was startled to be helping them. A girl rushed forward when the adults around her had stopped.

The same girl that stopped me before.

She gasped. "Mama, it's her!" she said to a woman nearby here, clutching her hand.

"Run, now!" I yelled. "There's Strigoi out there!"

That got their attention. Suddenly I caused mayhem and panic as the group of people started rushing toward me. I moved to the side, ushering them on as they passed me. The girl's mother had grabbed her daughter hand and started running. I noticed how the men in the group ushered the women and children in front of them as they quickly rushed back to the castle.

I swayed and a hand grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward the castle. I turned to see a few Moroi men had stopped.

"Come, young one," the man that grabbed me said. "It's not safe for you out here either."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of my head going forward ever time, and complied for now only because we were the last ones left.

My head shot up as I heard a suspicious break in the wind and deadly scream that followed. Those near me screamed in fright as one of the guards in the left tower fell from his station, instantly dead from an arrow pierced to his heart.

I turned back around towards land and saw a lone man sitting on his stallion, just before the causeway. His outline was black, as was his weapon.

Isaiah.

"Run," I whispered to the men. "Run!"

I took off, sprinting towards the castle with all my might, nearly catching up to the remaining of the group with the men who stopped for me trailed behind. A group of armoured men waited at the gate, sidestepping the oncoming people and manoeuvred around them before taking off as a unit down the causeway and passed the rest of us.

I bit my lip, almost ashamed of not stopping them and saying it's of no use to attempt fighting an immortal such as Isaiah. I pressed on, knowing my mission was more important than wasting more time for these fearful bastards.

The gate entrance was open, and the mass of people frantically returned within the safety of the island. I moved within the gates, and positioned myself within a group of people, made up of mostly Moroi citizens, and used my height as my advantage to move stealthily through the crowd. The Moroi towered over me, pushing me from every side as they all tried to move further into the island. I followed them crowd, noticing they were moving towards various heavily decorated streets with food stands and carts and little shops. The marketplace.

So where was the queen?

I gritted my teeth as I moved forward, brushing passed Moroi and Dhampirs as I fought my way through the masses of people. No point going sidewards and trying to escape the crowd, as I'd probably end up over a cliff face. The island was as majestic as it was deadly. It was mostly made of rock, and what wasn't covered by rock were buildings and the castle that rose above. I looked up at it, wondering how on earth I was going to escape this place.

My shoulder ached constantly as I was barged into, using my entire willpower to not destroy whoever dared bump into my shoulder. I clutched it again, attempting to ease away any form of pain with applied pressure.

I've had worse, I should stop making such a fuss about it. I guess it has to do with the fact that I have to eliminate the queen from the picture, take her head and somehow get the hell off this island while injured and while losing a lot of blood?

"Pull yourself together," I whispered harshly to myself.

Now think. Where would the queen be ushered to? She would be in the castle, I thought, looking back up at the glorious structure. Seems logical. She wouldn't be standing out here with the rest of her frightened people, she'd be –

Suddenly the crowd stopped rushing forwards and I ran smack into the girl in front of me.

"Sorry," I quickly blurted, and was about to brush passed her and keep moving forward when she turned back towards me.

My dark eyes widened when I looked into her deep jade green eyes. It was the young woman from before who had stopped me. She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth when she saw just how bloodied my blouse was.

I looked down, knowing full well that my blouse was no longer a washed out red colour from the mixture of water and blood, it was now coated with my blood, and was dark red near my shoulder.

I gave her a weak smile. "Don't fret, young one. I've had worse," I said, chuckling, then biting my laughter down as the pain was almost unbearable. How much blood have I lost? And how much time did I have?

What could I do? I'd be killed on spot if I killed the queen. No going back to the Resistance, no running away with Meredith and no possibility of a normal life away from all of this. My skill set was supreme, as was Meredith's, as was every one that set foot into the Resistance. They'd never stop hunting us if we fled. We were too great of an asset to them, and our departure would turn us into their liabilities.

"We need to find a healer," she rushed out, moving to my side so that the surrounding bodies would bump into her, as opposed to my injured shoulder.

I frowned at her generosity towards me, a stranger.

"You don't have to do this," I blurted, unsure of how to react to her kindness.

She looked deep into my eyes and I saw a hard determination within the depths. "I want to."

The crowd quietened suddenly and I looked up, trying to see over the noticeable tall Moroi at whatever had soothed the crowd.

"Calm yourself," I heard a strong female voice over all the others. I stopped moving my head around, and turned towards the owner of the voice.

"Remain calm, my citizens. We are to evacuate to the abbey as a precaution and for your upmost safety. Please, move calmly towards an entrance-"

The Moroi woman in front of me moved slightly to the left and that was when I saw her.

A woman stood a few steps higher than the rest of crowd, yet I could see only from her shoulders up. A crown sat upon her head, her perfect blonde hair sat in waves passed her shoulders and a jewelled necklace ran across her neck. She wore a fitted ocean blue royal attire that made her look powerful and also as beautiful as the first picture I saw of her.

The queen. Just paces away.

She stood, guarded by a handful of the strongest looking men I've ever laid my eyes on. The dhampirs stood, watchful, scanning the crowd and surroundings. One of the men that stood closest to her was scanning the crowd and for a brief moment, he locked eyes with me. I stood there, drenched in my own blood, which must have been why he had looked towards me, however my reaction towards him was a little more complicated than that.

I stared at him, completely forgetting about the queen, wondering why I couldn't look away from his dark eyes. His gaze pinned me and, against my will of course, I started to take in his other features. His shoulders length brown hair was tied back in a short ponytail with a few disobedient strands escaped around his face. A light wind blew passed and rustled those strands around his face and over his eyes at one point, but his gaze didn't budge. He was unbelievably tall and owned a lean body that was very much of muscular physique perfection. . He wore a dark leather chest plate with matching leather vambraces. His arms were like perfectly sculptured of art.

He was the perfect warrior.

I blinked a few times, realising that I should not been looking or feeling the way I do when staring at him.

It was then I realised that my distraction almost costed me the dreaded failure that was eating at my core. A lone arrow had shot through the sky and buried itself within one of the queen's guardian's neck. The guardian had stood not one breath away from her. It wasn't an unlucky shot, it was a warning. To me.

I saw the dark eyed dhampir snapped his attention back to her and lunged forward, protecting her with his body.

"No," I whispered harshly.

How was I supposed to get to her when he was literally right in front of her?!

The girl patted me on my back to get my attention. I turned and looked into her fearful eyes as she started to gently pull me towards the castle.

"Come," she rushed out. "We need to take cover."

At that very moment, I was thrown against her as I had people coming at me from all directions, rushing towards the castle. I gritted my teeth as I pushed against them with my good shoulder.

"Wait!" the girl shouted in distress.

"I'll meet you inside!" I shouted back at her, knowing that I was only seconds away from failure. I moved harder against others until I had broken out from the crowd and stumbled to the ground.

I bit out a curse as I righted myself up and bolted up the steps towards the fleeing queen. Her guardians had built a protective unit around her as they rushed forward, deeper into the marketplace. Where the hell were they going?

The dark eyes dhampir was at the back of the protective unit, his back facing the queen as he watched for any other unfortunate surprises.

We locked eyes again, his was of disbelief as I started in their direction.

"Dimitri! Please, do not leave him behind!" I heard the queen say.

I suddenly looked to my left at the wounded dhampir, still somehow clinging to life. I briefly stopped, sinking to the ground next to him. His eyes searched mine as he tried to breathe but was having no luck.

He had no chance of survival and was in incredible pain.

"No…more," he spat up blood, blinked the blood rapidly from his eyes.

I nodded, knowing I'd have to end his suffering.

I heard rushed footsteps coming up from behind me just as I was about to lift up my hands. I turned and saw it was the dark eyed guardian.

Dimitri.

"Go, find cover," he rushed out, looking pointedly at me when I hadn't of moved. He had a slight accent. Russian?

"He needs help," I said, gesturing to the badly wounded dhampir.

"Giovanni," Dimitri said, looking down at his friend, his brow furrowed.

The guardian leaned down to Giovanni, and wound his arms around his body and attempted to pick him up when another arrow flew through the sky and pierced his chest, centimetres from where the dark eyes guardian's arm was. I gasped in horror, looking up at him at the same time as he locked shocked eyes with me.

Giovanni let out one last breath before never moved again. His eyes stared up at the guardian.

I rushed to my feet, shocked and angered, knowing all too well how this was going to end. I looked down at the guardian, who now stared at his fallen friend. He reached up and shut his friend's eyes, whispering something I couldn't hear.

I looked back up to the street and saw the queen was still within reach, briefly grateful to see her still alive, when the surrounding guardians that protected her fell as a sky full of arrows rained down on the guardians.

One by one, they dropped leaving the queen to stand on her own as she screamed at the wounded guardians surrounding her.

Without a moment of delay, I flung myself forward, bidding my arms and legs the strength and speed I needed to reach her in time. I heard rushed footsteps behind me and knew the dark eyed guardian was in pursuit to save her as well.

Save her? I briefly thought of the crazy notion. If I saved her and disobeyed my commander, what would happen to me then? Would he and the Strigoi king come after me here? How'd they reach me? Well, that is, if Isaiah's arrows didn't kill me first.

Stan would pose as a refugee, as I have, to gain entry. He was a dhampir after all. The girl had said that the queen would extend sanctuary to me if I had only asked.

But what if I did more than just ask for sanctuary? What if I saved her, guaranteeing her to give me sanctuary not only because I am a dhampir, but because she'd owe me a blood debt? I could gain her trust and somehow find out what really happened that night so many years ago that robbed me of my parents. And then kill her once I was satisfied with the knowledge I'd gained.

I looked up at her, seeing her crouching down at the men, jutting out the arrows and touching their chest one by one. What was she doing to them? And why wasn't she fleeing for her bloody life?

Because she doesn't own fear, I realised with a start.

She cared for those men, just as she had cared for her peoples' safety.

She had stood before her people, directing them to the abbey for safety while she still stood and waited for her citizens to leave safely before she herself would see to her own safety. Yes, it did cost her a guardian's life, and possibly more, but she stood her ground. Against a long ranged _Strigoi_.

Who, might I add, knows exactly where she was and where she was positioned? How could he have possibly known?

I continued to run to her, contemplating my options and realised I had limited time left. I was starting to feel the weight of the dizziness and dark spots popping up in my vision.

 _Decide! Quickly!_ My inner voice had screamed.

Save her or kill her and die? Was I so selfish to want to live my life the way I desired? Was it considered selfish to sacrifice the queen and be murdered on spot because I wanted the nightmare to end?

What did I want more, I kept asking myself. To be free or to be free of living? Lately, I wasn't so sure of the difference. Not to mention my slaughter would be at the hands of the dark eyed dhampir a few paces behind me.

And he was _fast_.

As I closed in I made my decision, gritting my teeth at her back which was facing me.

"My queen!" I yelled. Again, I heard the break through the wind as another arrow jutted into the sky, and I knew this time with a jolt that it was going to hit her.

She looked up and turned around, rising to her feet, her jade green eyes staring up at me as tears fell from her eyes. Surprise filled her eyes as I flung myself towards her.

In mid-air, a lone arrow struck me through my chest, a fatal blow I knew. Because I couldn't see Isaiah or had the time to pinpoint where the arrow could possibly go, I took the risk and knew that by taking the risk that it'd be fatal. The air escaped my lungs as I crashed into her, knowing that I'd never be able to move again.

* * *

Later that night, Isaiah sat on his stallion, within the safety of the forest near the outskirts of Avranches, watching the entrance to Mont Saint Michel. He was deep in thought when the sound of snapped sticks and leaves alerted him to a new comer. He turned slightly, and swiftly swung off the horse.

He folded himself into a low bow at the new comer.

"My king," Isaiah said, only rising when Lucas Ozera touched his shoulder. Isaiah rose to his feet, regarding his king. His icy blues eyes took in the glorious island.

"Is it done?" he asked, his voice was oozing with power.

Isaiah smiled. "Yes. She chose in our favour," he said, turning towards the island once more and crossed his arms over his chest. "My arrows rained on the queen's guardians. No doubt she'll heal them. As for the others," he shrugged, remembering how he swiftly nocked his arrows and released them against the dhampirs that dared to end him on the causeway.

"How many did you kill?"

"Ten or so. The ones in the towers were most troublesome but died eventually."

"And the queen?"

"She lives."

"And this Rosemarie?" his king asked, looking pointedly where he could just see Elena's headless body washed ashore.

"She's perfect for the role, my king, I have no doubts. I assume she thought she'd sacrifice herself for the queen to win her loyalty and then go through with the deed, as opposed to killing the queen quickly. A true warrior, that one. A true survivor. She's an asset to us indeed."

"She has an agenda?"

"I believe so, but of what I'm not sure."

"Hmm," Lucas mused, running his hand across his stubble. "Whatever it may be, she must know of her true mission. Seek her out when she comes to land."

Isaiah nodded. "Understood, my king. What shall I tell her?"

King Lucas stared upon Mont Saint Michel for quite some time before answering him.

He turned to Isaiah and said, "Inform her that she is not to kill Vasilisa until finding out what happened to my son. If anyone knows of that information, it is Vasilisa, herself."

"You are not convinced of his murder?"

"Vasilisa was loyal to my son," King Lucas said. "I find it very hard to believe she'd have the power in her to kill him, whether or not he had succeeded to turn Strigoi that night."

Isaiah saw the king's gaze turned black towards the island.

"Your castle will be yours again, my king. Have patience," Isaiah said confidently. He knew the entire layout, was confident in knowing where Vasilisa would be stationed and her fleeing path because he had once lived there, before turning Strigoi. And of course he had a helper in case Vasilisa fled another way.

"Forget the castle," the king said harshly. "My son means more to my empire than that bloody rock. Ensure you and your scouts keep a watchful eye on our spy," King Lucas said. Before he turned away, he said, "Oh, and Isaiah? Do not kill her. She'll be more useful to us as a Strigoi. Awaken her once she's fulfilled her mission and send a raven to her commander of her success in killing the queen. "

* * *

 **A/N:** Why hello there! Thank you for reading another chapter of my story, I hope you enjoyed it!

Please write a review, whether it's long or short, I appreciate the comments you take the time to make!


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